Persistent
by MildlyInsane
Summary: Linda has a problem with a man who is in love with her and persists on being with her even though she's not interested. Margaret and Becker may be able to help her get rid of him... that is, if they even notice anything is wrong. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Linda walked into the office, late as usual.

"Linda!" Margaret called before the door even had time to close behind her, "I've been waiting all morning for you to get here. If you haven't noticed, this place is packed, and I've been stuck doing everything... just like always... I don't even know why I'm surprised."

"I'm sorry Margaret," Linda insisted, just as she always did, "I slept late..."

Margaret sighed, "there's no use being upset over it now. Just get to work."

Linda nodded and took her place behind the desk, asking patients to wait or to go on back to the examining rooms. She occasionally answered the phone, if she didn't accidentally drown the ringing sound out of her head. Before long, the patients cleared out, for the most part, and she and Margaret were once again stuck with only paper work and phone calls, both of which Linda normally ignored.

Margaret didn't expect much out of Linda. Mostly she was just there because the patients liked her and she was generally a pleasant person to be around, once you got passed the aspect of her spacing out and never being productive. Margaret could usually handle the work on her own, and didn't ever stay angry with Linda for long. But then before she knew it, Linda would make another mistake, or completely forget to come in to work, and Margaret would yell at her again. But Margaret's anger lasted only a half-hour at most, every time.

As Margaret contemplated her chipper, unreliable, yet somehow pleasant co-worker, she filed paper work in silence. She assumed Linda would be doing the same... or painting her nails. Either way, they were both silent at the moment, and hadn't really spoken to each other ever since Linda had arrived. Now that Margaret thought of it, Linda had been very uncharacteristically silent all day.

"Margaret?" the silence was broken by Linda's voice. She didn't sound excited or happy like she might usually sound, but rather preoccupied, and maybe even concerned.

"What is it, Linda?" Margaret asked.

Linda sighed, "Margaret..."

"What is it, Linda?" Margaret asked again, becoming impatient.

"Are you mad at me?" Linda finally asked, looking Margaret right in the eyes, her facial expression looking extremely serious.

Margaret shook her head, "Of course not, Linda. I mean, I'd like for you to show up on time, but you know I'm not one to hold a grudge... Just try to be more dependable. Set your alarm tonight so you'll get here on time tomorrow, and we'll be fine," she smiled, but Linda still looked uneasy.

"Okay..." she said.

"Is something else bothering you?" Margaret asked.

Linda looked like she was considering this question, "Well..." she started, but hesitated, "um... You've met lots of guys in your life, right?"

Margaret raised her eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No... I mean, you've probably had lots of guys ask you on dates and stuff, right?" Linda rephrased.

Margaret didn't confirm or deny this accusation. She simply continued to look at Linda, silently giving her permission to go on with whatever problem or story this was leading to.

"What do you do if someone asks you on a date, but you don't really like them, but you don't really want to hurt their feelings, because you don't really not like them either? You don't want to say yes because you don't want to go on a date with them, but you don't want to say no because you don't want to be mean..." Linda asked, her words moving like cars on a racetrack, "I mean, I don't want to make him sad, but I really don't want to date him either."

Margaret shook her head as if ridding herself of excess and repetitive explanation, and then rephrased Linda's problem in more comprehensible words, "Someone asked you out and you don't know how to say no?"

Linda nodded, "I guess you could say that," she agreed.

"Why don't you just try telling him in a nice way," Margaret suggested, "You might say, 'It's nothing personal, but I don't think we are compatible.'"

"Margaret... I don't know what that means," Linda said. Instead of waiting for Margaret to explain, she continued, "I told him I'm dating someone else, but that I'd date him later if I ever broke up with the other guy... I know I shouldn't have lied to him, because now he's probably going to keep asking me if I broke up with my other boyfriend, and my other boyfriend doesn't even exist. I'm in a huge mess, Margaret..."

"You could just be honest with him, Linda. Tell him it's nothing personal, but you just don't think you and he are a good match. Or tell him you just don't want to date anyone right now."

Linda frowned, "Will you tell him?"

Margaret laughed, "Are you serious? How does that even make sense?"

"I just don't want him to be mad at me," Linda looked down at her feet.

Now Margaret was the one frowning, "You're not scared of him, are you?"

Linda looked up, "what do you mean?"

"Well, you don't want to talk to him... It's just because you don't want to hurt his feelings, right?" Margaret asked.

Linda nodded, "Yeah," she said, "he's kind of persistent though. What if he won't listen?"

"Maybe I should talk to him for you," Margaret suggested. She knew Linda was old enough to fight her own battles, but she was also small, gullible, and naïve. Margaret didn't want to take a chance of this mystery man being some kind of creep and have to regret not doing something about it while she had the chance.

Now Linda looked worried again, "I don't know," she contradicted her earlier suggestion. This reminded Margaret of a child asking her parents for help with a bully and then regretting it for reputation's sake. "I think I can handle it on my own. It's not really that big of a deal."

"Listen, Linda, if you need me to talk to this guy, I will... And I won't be rude to him or anything," Margaret insisted, "I just want to look out for you, okay? If you're scared to tell him no, I'll definitely make sure he takes your rejection seriously."

Linda nodded, "I understand. It's okay though. I've got it under control. I think I'm much more worried than I should be. I just don't like letting people down... It'll be fine though," she grinned, "I'm going out for lunch, if that's okay."

Margaret sighed. She didn't really know what to make of this. Linda sometimes made big deals of nothing, and sometimes didn't pay any attention at all to huge issues. She hoped Linda really could handle this on her own. She felt it wasn't really her place to pry into her colleague's personal life to such an extent, so she let it go.

"Be back within the hour," Margaret instructed.

Linda nodded, "okie dokie," she called back as she headed out the door, almost seeming to be skipping with joy, as though she had completely forgotten about how worried she was just a minute earlier.

Margaret shook her head, and expected Linda to be back within two hours, if she even remembered to come back at all.

* * *

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Well, I could continue with this, if you want. My original intent was to be that Linda would have to deal with a persistent guy whom she's not interested in, and maybe Margaret and Becker would have to help her sort everything out to get him to leave her alone... This could end up being very serious and not really funny though, and I don't know if anyone in the Becker fandom is really interested in such things...**_

_**Linda is my favourite character, and I like to see how characters interact with one-another when one of them is in some sort of trouble. I'd like to perhaps write about Margaret and Becker being concerned about Linda and whatnot... I don't completely have a plan, but just let me know via review if anyone reads this and if you have any desire for me to write up another chapter. :)**_

_**Your reviews can make this happen. If no one reviews, I might write another chapter anyway, and I might not. I don't really know... Reviews sure would help though. I'd be much more driven to write more if I know there are people out there who want me to do so.  
**_

_**Thank you.**_


	2. Chapter 2

As Margaret had guessed, Linda came back from her lunch hour almost two hours after she had left. Every time Linda stayed gone this long, Margaret wondered what she could possibly have to do for two hours, but never asked. She did, however, chastise Linda for being late again, even though she had already known her young colleague would stay gone longer than requested before she had even left.

"Linda," she said, in a somewhat annoyed, yet unsurprised voice, "you're late again."

"I know, I know," Linda said. She seemed much more care-free and much more like her normal self than she had before she had left.

"Did you talk with that guy who has been asking you out?" Margaret asked, "what was his name?"

"Oh... Um, his name's Miles. And yeah... I talked to him," she said. Then she sighed, but didn't explain anymore.

Now Margaret was interested. Linda never stayed quiet when she could help it. Something hadn't worked out as planned... Perhaps she felt bad for letting him down, or maybe she regretted not going out with him because she thought she just might like him after all. Against her better judgment, Margaret asked, "Well... what happened?"

Linda sighed again, "I know you'll probably think I'm stupid," she began. Margaret nodded slightly, as though Linda was stating the obvious, "but... well... I just told him yes... I couldn't say no. I'll just give him a chance."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that," Margaret said, "just don't let him push you around or anything."

Linda nodded, "hopefully it'll be easier to break up with him after he gets to know me better. Some people find me annoying you know..."

"Yeah. I know," Margaret agreed, "Just out of curiosity, what is it about him that makes it so hard for you to reject him? I've seen you reject countless men in the past."

"Well, those guys are all losers," Linda said, "they expect me to say no. Miles is like one of the popular guys in school. Just by looking at him, you'd know that no one ever turns him down. If you say no to someone who expects it, it won't hurt their feelings as much. If you say it to someone who never gets rejected though..." She left this statement open-ended.

Margaret nodded, "okay then... Just be careful. Some people need a little rejection now and then."

"I know," Linda agreed, "we're supposed to go on a date tonight. Maybe, if I don't chicken out, I'll break up with him after. It sure is scary breaking up with people though."

"It doesn't have to be, Linda," Margaret told her, "if you're afraid he might get angry with you, maybe you shouldn't go out with him at all. Or, if you feel you absolutely have to go out with him, make sure you stay in a public place, so if he does get angry, he won't try anything."

"Try anything? Like what?" Linda asked.

"Well, you know, if he gets really angry," Margaret began, "...well... I just don't want you to end up getting hurt. Some people don't take rejection very well, and if you're afraid he'll be violent, you need to be careful."

Linda looked worried. Margaret wasn't sure if she had simply not thought of that possibility before just now, or if she had already considered it and Margaret bringing it up was making her worry about it again.

"Linda, if you're scared of him, you shouldn't be with him," Margaret emphasized what she had been hinting at for a while, "It won't do either of you any good for you to lead him on if you don't really like him... especially if he is the type of person who isn't usually rejected and might not take it well."

"I'm sure we're just making a big deal out of nothing. He might be mad, but he won't do anything," Linda assured her co-worker, "I'm sure of it."

"Well, you know you can always call me if you need me, okay?" Margaret offered.

"Really?" Linda asked, grinning very widely.

Margaret nodded, "Any time. And I'm serious... Don't get yourself into a bad situation. If you have any doubts, just stay away from him... And don't hesitate to call me if you need to." She repeated.

"Well, thanks, Margaret," Linda smiled, "you can call me too, if you want."

"I'll keep that in mind," Margaret smiled back.

Still grinning, Linda got back to 'work,' or rather, sat down next to the phone and looked at it.

The rest of the work day passed rather uneventfully.

xxxxxx

Linda stared at the clock. She was somewhat eager to be done with work, but also felt a tinge of dread in the pit of her stomach. She really wasn't looking forward to meeting with Miles. The plan was that he would meet her at her apartment and they would go out to dinner. She felt she would much rather just skip the entire evening, right back to the start of another day of working.

Like Margaret seemed to think, Linda was sort of scared of Miles. He hadn't really threatened her or anything, but just the tone he used and the way he looked kind of made her wonder what he might do if she told him she didn't want to be with him. She had intentions of calling their relationship off at the end of the night, but the more she thought about it, the more scared she was to do so.

She had wondered if he'd get violent, but had pushed that idea out of her head almost instantly. That kind of thing didn't happen to her; it only happened to other people, to weak, shy girls who were afraid to stand up for themselves. She was much too outgoing, carefree, and assertive to have something like that happen to her. Nevertheless, when Margaret had mentioned the possibility of him becoming violent when faced with rejection, Linda's worries returned.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of these thoughts. She never liked thinking about things that made her worried. She had discovered long ago that the best way to deal with worries was to just not have them. If something was making her worried, she'd just push it out of her mind completely, to either deal with it later, or not deal with it at all.

"I'm going to head out, Linda," she heard Margaret call behind her.

"Okay," she said, not moving. Ordinarily she would have left work early, but she still wasn't sure if she wanted to leave at all.

"Linda, you do know what time it is, don't you?" Margaret asked, walking up beside her.

Linda looked up at the clock and sighed. She supposed she had better get a move on before Miles showed up at her apartment only to find she hadn't made it home yet, "Yeah," she said, "I guess I should go too then."

"Are you still worried about that guy?" Margaret asked.

"Kind of," Linda said.

"If you want, I can try to convince Lewis and we can double date, if it'll make you feel better," Margaret offered, "or I can just tag along and claim my date stood me up... That might be more pleasant."

Linda smiled, "you're awfully critical about me dating someone I don't like when you clearly don't like your own husband," she giggled.

"It's not that I don't like him, Linda," Margaret explained, "It's very complicated... Are you going to be alright?" she changed the subject back away from her own relationship.

"Yeah," Linda smiled, "It'll be fine. Kind of like a family reunion... Something you just gotta do. It sucks, but once it's over, you'll be really glad you did it."

"You shouldn't feel obligated to date someone you don't like though, Linda," Margaret repeated, "it's different than spending time with family."

"How so?" Linda asked, "they're both people I don't want to be with, but don't want to disappoint."

Margaret frowned, "Well, I guess I just feel that family is automatically something special."

Linda didn't agree. She also didn't want to argue with Margaret, "I dunno," she sighed, "it'll work itself out," she grinned.

Margaret shook her head and laughed, as though Linda was being ridiculous, "I certainly hope so. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow morning... On time. And don't be afraid to call me if you need anything, okay?"

Linda nodded, "I'll be fine."

She followed Margaret out of the office and they went their separate ways.

xxxxxx

**_I know the pace isn't very quick at the moment, but this should get more interesting soon. I just don't want to be too quick about it. I realize the Becker page only had about 9 other story submissions and no one watches the show anymore, but if you happen to read this, please review and let me know what you think. :)_**

**_Perhaps next chapter will be Linda's date with Miles..._**

**_Or maybe not... I could just skip to the next morning and let Margaret have to guess what happened... I really want to get Becker in here somehow too... He's just not really an openly caring person... Don't worry though... He'll sneak his way in eventually. Trust me. :) I'm actually really looking forward to writing some interaction between Becker and Linda... I just need to find a fitting place for it.  
_**


	3. Chapter 3

Miles was rather polite throughout dinner, and if it wasn't for Linda not liking him, she would have rather enjoyed their date. Unfortunately, he seemed a bit full of himself and Linda had never really wanted to agree to date him in the first place. Nevertheless, she stuck through dinner, which wasn't so bad, since she knew she could look forward to going back home... And hey, a free meal is always good.

Afterward, he drove her home. Much to her displeasure, he sort of invited himself in instead of leaving. He had now been hanging around, chatting and looking at all of her expensive art work and other possessions for several hours. It was almost 1:00 in the morning.

Linda sat on the couch, almost falling asleep as she tried to think of a way to get him to leave without sounding rude and without making him angry, "I think I'll go take a shower," she said, hoping he would take this as a clue that he should leave. After all, he didn't know her very well, and Linda figured most typically, people who weren't good friends didn't hang out at each others houses while one of them was showering.

"Alright," he said. Linda frowned when he made no move to leave. She didn't want to come right out and tell him to leave directly. She had hoped he might take a hint...

Because he didn't seem to get it, she decided to just take an extra long shower and hope he would get bored and leave while she was gone. She picked out her most non-sexy pajamas she could find and made her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She undressed and stepped into the shower. She was very preoccupied; for the first twenty minutes or so, she just stood under the hot water and thought about what she might say to Miles if he was still in her apartment when she got out. Maybe she could tell him that the building didn't allow over-night visitors... But then, he might find out she was lying... She could try to break up with him, which she had wanted to do even before their date... But that ran the risk of him getting angry or sad, and she really didn't prefer either of those emotions. After contemplating all of her possible choices of words, she ended up still being unsure of what to say. She finished showering in a little under an hour and reluctantly turned off the water. She felt she might like to stay in the shower all night, just so she wouldn't have to deal with Miles at all, but she knew she'd have to face him sooner or later.

She felt much less tired now, but knew it was probably almost 2:00 AM, and knew that as soon as she sat down for a few minutes, she'd be tired again quick. She dreaded having to wake up early for work; even if she went to sleep right now, she'd probably only get four hours of sleep, assuming she hoped to arrive at work on time. She got dressed in her long-sleeve flannel pajama top and pants and headed back out into the main room, hoping, but not expecting Miles to be gone. Just as she suspected, but was disappointed still to find, Miles was still there. He was sitting on her couch and flipping through television channels.

Linda sighed and sat down next to him on the couch, but kept a comfortable distance away. She looked at the television screen, but didn't pay attention to what was on. She then looked back at Miles, who was laughing at whatever show he was watching. He turned and looked at her. He smiled, but it wasn't the kind of smile that might indicate that he was enjoying her company. In fact, he couldn't have been enjoying her company, since she hadn't even been there until just now and had barely spoken to him ever since they returned to her apartment. His smile looked more cocky than anything, and Linda didn't care for it. She managed to smile nervously back at him. She really just wanted him to leave so she could go to sleep and worry about breaking up with him later.

He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. Linda shrunk down a bit, trying to get away from him without actually moving or pushing his arm away. This just made him scoot in closer. Linda closed her eyes in frustration. Guys weren't usually this aggressive with her. She was usually the one in charge.

Miles looked at her and grinned. He was entirely too close for comfort, and was getting even closer, leaning down now. "You wanna make out?" he asked in an irritating whisper.

Linda shook her head, "No," she said quickly, before thinking of a less blunt way of responding.

Miles frowned, "you serious? After I took you to dinner, you won't even kiss me?"

Linda rolled her eyes, "Miles... It's two in the morning. I'm kind of tired."

"Kissing doesn't take a lot of energy," he persisted, leaning toward her.

She leaned away from him as he leaned closer as though she and he were two opposite magnets. She raised her hands and pushed him away from her, "I just don't want to," she said. Perhaps this would be a good time to dump him and be rid of him, she thought. She was just not sure how to word it, "I... Maybe... Um... We should get to know each other better first!" She stammered and mentally kicked herself. Why couldn't she just dump him?

"The best way to get to know someone," Miles began, "is to get up close and personal from the start." He leaned forward, quicker this time, and planted a quick kiss on Linda's lips before she pushed him away and stood up angrily.

"I think you should leave," she said.

Now Miles was frowning again, "Dammit... I know you aren't shy. You have something against me?" He yelled, "are you just leading me on?"

Linda shook her head, "No..." she stammered, "I just... I'm not in that sort of mood... I have work early tomorrow morning, and I need to go to sleep."

"Then do it!" he yelled, "I'll just wait around. I'll drive you tomorrow. Maybe pick you up during your lunch break so we can finish what we started tonight."

"No!" Linda was nearly yelling now, "and we haven't even started anything!"

"Well, we can start tomorrow then. You know you want to," Miles persisted, smirking his cocky grin again, "I'll just wait around until then. I'll sleep on the couch if you really won't just let me sleep in bed with you."

"You have to leave!" she finally said, "I barely know you. I'm not going to go to sleep with you right here, wandering around in my apartment!"

"Why? Don't you trust me?" He countered, reaching out with his hand toward her cheek. She swatted it away. She couldn't believe this guy was still wanting to be around her when she was yelling at him and telling him to leave... Even if he thought he had the right to stay, why would he wish to be around her after she told him to leave so plainly?

"That's just it, Miles," She was becoming very brutally honest at this point, "I don't trust you. I barely know you! In fact, I don't even want to date you! I just didn't want to hurt your feelings! I only said yes because I thought you might throw some sort of fit if I rejected you!"

At that point, Linda felt a stinging sensation as Miles slapped her across her cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes, more from shock than from pain. The hit was rather strong, but judging by Miles's size, he could have done much worse. She looked at him while holding her hand up to her cheek. He balled his hands into fists, and for a moment, Linda thought he might hit her again. Instead, however, he punched the wall and stormed out of the room, and out of her apartment.

Linda hoped this would be the last she'd see of him...

xxxxxx

Linda finally got to sleep after 2:30, and had to be at work early the next morning. She really had intended on following Margaret's advice and arriving on time today, but she had completely forgotten to set her alarm after her argument with Miles. After falling asleep on her couch, she woke up an hour after she was meant to show up for work.

She hurried and put on the first decent set of clothing she could find and rushed out the door, not even bothering to brush her hair, put on any make up or make sure her sore jaw didn't have a visible bruise. She was already late, and didn't want Margaret to be incredibly angry with her.

When she finally arrived at Dr. Becker's office, she tried to sneak in so that she might tell Margaret that she had been there all morning, but Margaret saw her and called her on her lateness just as soon as she opened the door, just like always.

"Linda, every day I tell you that you need to be on time, and every day, you're late again," she complained, "I specifically told you to set your alarm, and I guess you didn't. Or maybe you just slept through it. I wouldn't be surprised. I don't know what we're going to do if there's ever a big outbreak of something and we actually need you to be here. There are patients depending on you, and you need to be here not only for your pay check, but for them," she continued, "I know you care about people, and I know you bother coming in to work every day because you want to help people, but when you're unreliable and don't show up when you're supposed to, you're not going to help anyone. You'll only let them down..." This sounded like it might be a rather long rant, so Linda decided to interrupt and hopefully cut it short.

"Margaret, I had a really rough night. I forgot to set my alarm," Linda told her. She wondered if she should tell Margaret the whole story or not. Would Margaret get angry and try to get involved in this when it was not her place to do so? Linda didn't really want Margaret to get involved and make things more difficult. Before Linda could decide whether or not to tell her the whole story, Margaret began speaking again.

"Enough with the excuses, Linda," she said, frowning, "you're a professional adult, and you need to start acting like one."

Linda frowned and was silent for a moment, "why are you being so mean?" she asked.

"I'm not," Margaret retorted, "I'm trying to get you to understand that your job in important, and you need to treat it as such."

"I know it is," Linda said softly.

Margaret sighed, "I'm sorry for being so harsh with you," she apologized, "I just want you to take your job seriously. And I know you care about these people... I just think you don't always consider how your little mistakes might affect others."

Linda looked at her and waited for her to finish saying whatever she wanted to say, but Margaret seemed to be finished, "I'll try to be on time from now on... I just... Never mind. I shouldn't make excuses."

Margaret smiled, "You're a good person Linda," she said, "oh, Dr. Becker wanted to talk with you... Um... Let me go speak with him first."

"Why?" Linda asked, looking worried, "am I in trouble? I really didn't mean to be late!"

Margaret looked at her and then furrowed her brow, "Linda, is that a bruise on your cheek?" she asked, as she noticed it for the first time.

Linda's mouth dropped open as she quickly brought her hand up to her face, "um... No," she lied, "I think I slept wrong... I um... I slept on the couch and maybe my cheek was laying on the cushion... I... I don't know... I didn't notice anything... Maybe it's dirt."

Margaret looked at her skeptically, "I'll be right back. I'll tell Dr. Becker to go easy on you."

Linda remained at the main desk and listened as she heard the muffled voices of her co-worker and boss. Dr. Becker sounded angry, like usual. Linda winced. She hoped he wouldn't yell at her too much. She was really tired from staying up so late and wasn't really in the right mood to be yelled at.

She waited a few more minutes, but Margaret hadn't returned. It sounded like she and Dr. Becker were having a bit of an argument. Margaret was pretty persistent, so she might be able to win said argument and maybe even get Linda out of trouble completely. Linda was getting bored of trying to hear what they were saying, so she made her way to the bathroom and examined her cheek in the mirror.

There it was: the bruise Margaret had asked about. It was rather obviously there, but it wasn't really dark. It very well could have been smudged make up or dirt for all Margaret knew. Of course, Linda wasn't notorious for showing up to work with dirt or smudged make up on her face... She sighed as she realized there was no way to cover it up, since her concealer make up was at home. She stored nail polish at the office, but that was all, and that wouldn't be of any use for this particular situation...

She looked at her reflection again. Her hair was messy, but not too bad. She smoothed it out a bit with her hands, which she noticed were trembling slightly. Was she really this nervous about Dr. Becker yelling at her? He had yelled at her tons of times... Maybe she was just tired. Yes, that was probably it.

"Linda? Where are you?" she heard Margaret call from outside.

Linda sighed and exited the bathroom, "here," she answered reluctantly.

"You can go back and talk to him now," she said, "And don't take anything he says too personally, okay? You know how he is."

Linda smiled, "yeah. I never take anything he says personally; don't worry."

She walked down the short hallway and into Dr. Becker's office, "Hello," she said, somewhat nervously, as she walked in. He was sitting down, but she remained standing, hoping she could make this quick and be out of here before he thought of very many reasons to yell at her.

"Linda, you're late all the time," he said plainly. He paused.

"Yes," Linda said.

He rolled his eyes as though he thought her response was ridiculous, "it wasn't a question, Linda. You're late all the time, and you've been arriving more and more late every day."

"It won't happen again," Linda promised, "Well, it might, but I'll try my best-"

"You need to do more than try, Linda," he insisted, "you need to be here on time, every time. You need to be sure to do that. Not _try your best_ or _really hope the sun wakes you up_. You need to just be here on time, tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after, and so on... Are you getting this?"

Linda nodded, "okay," she said, "can I go?" she asked, moving toward the door.

"No," Becker responded, "why don't you sit down for a minute. I want to make sure this is getting through to you."

Linda looked down at her feet as she made her way over to the chair and sat down, just a few feet away from her boss, "I'm really sorry," she said, "Margaret already talked to me though. About how this job is important and stuff."

Becker looked at her as though she was a little child, saying things that were half-way humourous and half way completely idiotic. Then he frowned, "is that dirt on your face?"

Linda wanted to go back home right now so she could do something to cover that up, "yes," she lied, "I think so. Must be from the subway."

Becker looked at her as though she was one of his patients and he was trying to diagnose her. This made her a bit nervous. She wriggled a bit in her chair.

"That's a bruise, isn't it?" Becker guessed, "what did you do?"

Linda opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. How do people get bruises on their cheeks by accident? What could she tell him? Or should she just tell him the truth? Becker wouldn't care, would he? He wouldn't say anything to Miles... But did she really want people thinking she was in some sort of pathetic abusive relationship? "It was really stupid, Dr. Becker," she began after a moment, "I walked right into my cabinets in my kitchen at home. I was up late last night, so I was really tired, and this morning I walked right into them."

Dr. Becker didn't look convinced either. She really hoped he and Margaret would just drop it. Miles was long gone. He had clearly been angry with her last night/this morning. He would have no desire to see her again, so she really didn't have anything to worry about. There was no problem to be solved, thus, she didn't need anyone's help.

After a moment of silence, Becker spoke again, "you'll be on time tomorrow then? No matter what?"

Linda nodded, "Yep," she said, smiling, "I really promise. I'll set my alarm as soon as I get home, to make sure I don't forget."

Becker smiled and shook his head, "Okay," he said, "you can go get back to 'work,' then."

"Okie dokie," Linda smiled, "I'll see you around." She left Dr. Becker's office, feeling much better. Dr. Becker and Margaret weren't angry with her, she had a plan to be on time tomorrow for the first time in a while, and she didn't have to worry about Miles anymore. She knew this was going to be a great day, even though she was tired and her jaw ached just a little.

_**xxxxxx**_

_**By the way, the story doesn't end here. We haven't seen the last of Miles. I don't call him persistent just because he likes to hang around in people's apartments at all hours of the morning... He'll be back, if I indeed feel motivated to write any more. (No one is reading this except me.) ^_^**_

**_You can review if you want... if you even exist.  
_**


	4. Chapter 4

Linda had gone ahead and taken the liberty to do a little bit of work today, since she was in such a good mood. She was almost always in a good mood, of course, but knowing that she didn't have anything to worry about anymore, she was much happier than she had been yesterday, and even this morning.

"Linda, you know how I was kind of harsh this morning?" Margaret said out of nowhere when their work day was almost over.

Linda raised her eyebrows, "Um..." she hesitated. She didn't want to agree, in case this was some sort of a trap, "I... deserved it?"

Margaret laughed and shook her head, "I'm not trying to trick you," she insisted, "I'm actually wanting to apologize."

"Oh," Linda said, frowning a bit, "that's weird."

Margaret laughed again, "Well, I was in sort of a sore mood. You see, Lewis is going to his friend's bachelor party tonight, after I _told _ him not to... So I was arguing with him last night before going to bed, and this morning before work. I guess I kind of took my anger out on you, and I shouldn't have."

"Oh... That's okay," Linda smiled, "I was late and stuff... You guys had a right to be kind of mad at me."

"I suppose so," Margaret agreed, "At any rate, I was going to ask if you'd like to go out for a few drinks after work. If Lewis is going to be going to bachelor parties, I think I deserve to go out for a few drinks. I don't even _want to know_ what nasty things he's going to encounter while he's there..."

"Maybe strippers," Linda said.

Margaret winced, "don't even say it."

"Sorry," Linda frowned, "but yeah, I'll definitely go out for drinks," she was smiling again by the time she said this.

Margaret smiled back at her, "You know, I always complain about you, but you're really quite a joy to be around when I'm not waiting for you to get work done."

"Aww," Linda began, "thank you, Margaret. You are too, when you're not complaining about me being late or not working hard enough."

They both turned to look at Dr. Becker who was walking toward them, grumbling something under his breath. They couldn't quite hear what it was, but were both fairly certain it wouldn't matter anyway.

"Do you mind if I invite him?" Margaret whispered to Linda.

"Go ahead," Linda agreed, "he probably won't say yes though. I don't even think he likes having friends... or doing anything fun for that matter."

Margaret smiled, "John," she began, interrupting Dr. Becker's silent rant to himself. He looked at her when she said his name, "Linda and I are going to go out for a couple drinks if you want to join us."

Becker hesitated. He looked at Linda who grinned back at him and then he sighed as though this was some obligation he was forced to complete, "I guess so," he said, "it's not like I've got anything better to do. Keep in mind though, _Linda_, that it's Tuesday, and you've got to be at work tomorrow_, on time_. No excuses... I know how you are around booze..."

Linda smiled and nodded, "I promise I'll be on time," she said, hoping that her alarm clock would indeed wake her up in time to arrive to work in a timely manner.

"Alright then," Becker sighed again, "I'm not driving though. We're taking the subway. If I'm going out for drinks, I want to be able to drink. I'm not going to be the designated driver."

"Fine," Margaret said, "no one expected you to drive."

xxxxxx

They went to a rather cheap bar, considering Margaret and Linda didn't have much money, but Becker didn't really mind, because though he did have money, he was rather stingy, and Margaret and Linda both knew it.

They sat down at a table together and ordered some drinks.

"So... what time exactly is work supposed to start?" Linda asked. She thought it was 8:00, but she wasn't really sure. If she was going to aim to be on time tomorrow, she felt she should probably know when exactly 'on time' was.

Margaret and Dr. Becker both looked at her with raised eyebrows, "Seriously?" Becker asked.

"Eight o'clock," Margaret answered.

Linda nodded, "Okie dokie. I'll be sure to make it on time tomorrow then. I doubly-promise."

"So, what are you guys drinking for?" Becker asked.

"You wouldn't believe it, John," Margaret began, "You'd think after so many years of marriage, Lewis would learn what is and what isn't appropriate, but he just never does. He had the nerve to ask me if he could go to his friend's bachelor party. Why they're having it on a tuesday night, god only knows. I told him no, of course, because bachelor parties are sickening, and I'm sure even you would agree to that. After I told him no, he told me he was going anyway!"

"You're right," Becker agreed, "the whole concept of a bachelor makes absolutely no sense. If you're already wishing you could be single again, why even get married in the first place?"

"Not all bachelor parties (and bachelor-ette parties) are like that through," Linda tried to contribute, "sometimes they are more of a celebration of getting married than about it being the last night of being single."

"Then why wouldn't the bride and groom go to the same party?" Becker argued, "if they are so happy to be together, I think they should celebrate their marriage in the same room, instead of without each other and with a bunch of booze and strippers."

Margaret groaned, "Lewis said there wouldn't be strippers, but I'm no fool. I know what a bachelor party is..."

"Maybe he'll say he's married and go in the other room if there's strippers," Linda smiled optimistically.

Margaret shook her head, "I can only hope so..."

"What about you, Linda? I'm sure you're just drinking because you can?" Becker asked.

Linda nodded, "and because I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" Margaret asked.

"Having a great day," Linda smiled, "I showed up late for work, but you guys aren't even mad at me anymore, I'm out with two of my best friends having drinks, and I don't have to worry about Miles-" she paused, not wanting to explain that one, and then continued, "I'm just having a good day."

"Miles?" Becker asked.

Linda sighed. Becker was a little too observant for her tastes, "he's just a guy who wouldn't leave me alone, but I took care of it, so I'm happy that I don't have to worry about him anymore."

"How did that go, Linda?" Margaret asked, "did he take it well when you broke up with him?"

Linda hesitated. Margaret almost seemed like she was asking her a question which she already knew the answer to. Did Margaret already know? She had asked about the bruise on Linda's face earlier... Was she testing her honesty or something? "Uh... He was a little mad," Linda decided not to lie, but just to not tell the entire truth either, "but I don't think I have to worry about him anymore."

Margaret nodded, "Well, I'm glad you worked it out. I'm getting another drink; do you guys want anything?"

"I'll take another screwdriver," Linda said, handing Margaret five dollars, "thanks."

Becker shook his head. He was smoking a cigarette, thus was not drinking quite as fast as his employees. Margaret got up and made her way to the bar, leaving Linda and Becker alone with each other.

"So this Miles guy," Becker began, "is that what this is all about?" he gestured toward the bruise on her cheek.

For a moment Linda felt as though her heart had stopped. When she regained her bearings, she responded quickly, "what? I don't know what you mean?"

"The bruise on your jaw, Linda," Becker said bluntly, "is that how he reacted when you broke up with him?"

Linda frowned and shook her head, "no," she lied, "I told you already. I ran into my cabinets. It was really dumb, and I am kind of embarrassed about it... so let's not talk about it anymore."

Becker nodded, "fine," he said.

Margaret came back in time to notice the uncomfortable silence that had befallen her two friends; Becker was silent and looking at Linda as though he was waiting for her to confess something, and Linda pouted like a little girl who had been being teased on the playground. "what did you say, John?" Margaret scolded, as though Becker and Linda were her children.

"Nothing," Becker said, "anyway, you wouldn't believe what this guy said to me today..."

Linda zoned out while Dr. Becker complained about all of his patients and while Margaret got a few words in here and there comparing Becker's patients to her husband. The two of them were very good at complaining.

After a few hours of Becker and Margaret talking mostly to each other, and Linda receiving a few free drinks from random men around the bar, as well as Linda flirting with said men, the three decided it was about time to head home, as they all knew that they were _supposed to_ _be_ at work bright and early the next morning.

**_xxxxxx (Becker's perspective-ish)_**

They all lived in the same general direction from the bar, so they were able to begin their subway ride together. Margaret lived the closest, so she got off first, leaving Becker and Linda together again.

"You know, Linda," Becker began, "if that guy you were seeing becomes a problem, you can tell me and I'll help you sort it out."

Linda frowned. She had received A LOT of free drinks, and had thus become quite drunk. Therefore, she was not thinking to her full potential, "It's okay," she slurred, laying down in the subway seat across from Becker who sat on the other side of the isle. It was rather late, maybe even early in the morning by now, so there weren't many people on the subway, which allowed Becker and Linda to each have their own row of seats rather than having to sit right next to each other. Linda looked at the ceiling and then lolled her head to the side so that she was looking at Becker, "what did you say?" she asked, apparently having forgotten what they were just talking about.

"I said if that guy you 'broke up with' continues to be a problem, just let me know," Becker repeated, "I seriously doubt you ran into your kitchen cabinets on the same night as you broke up with a guy who was supposedly 'not leaving you alone.' If he hit you, he can get in trouble for it."

Linda laughed, "it doesn't even hurt," she said, her words stumbling over each other.

"So he did hit you then?" Becker asked, trying to get to the bottom of this once and for all. He suspected, judging by the way Linda had acted, that the bruise on her cheek was no accident. At first she had said it was dirt, then said it was from bumping into cabinets, and had specifically told him not to talk to her about it. It was all very suspicious.

"Just a little," Linda slurred, "but then he left," she giggled, "I was pretty mean though... I told him I didn't like him and that I didn't even want to date him in the first place... I said I just felt sorry for him, or... no... I said that... um... that I didn't want him to feel sad... or something... It was the truth, but I probably shouldn't have said it... he got mad."

"He still had no right to hit you," Becker insisted, "I mean, come on... We learn in kindergarten not to hit each other. Any moron knows that. I'm serious. You probably won't even remember we had this conversation, but I'm going to be paying attention. If I notice anything, any more bruises, I'm going to step in. You and I may not be the best of friends, but you deserve more than some guy you don't even like bothering you all the time. Maybe you're right, and I hope you are; maybe he took a hint and you'll never see him again. But if he got mad enough to hit you when you rejected him, he might not be ready to give up quite yet... I'm not trying to scare you or anything-"

Linda laughed again and then rolled a bit so that she fell off the subway seats and landed on the floor. She tried to crawl to her hands and knees only to fall down again, laughing even harder.

Becker frowned, "How many drinks did you have, Linda?" he finally asked. He had only had one, and he knew Margaret only had a few. How did Linda get so drunk? She was smaller than he and Margaret, so it probably took fewer drinks to get her drunk, but still... she couldn't even stand up...

"I dunno," she began, but then tried to do the math, "I bought two. Those one guys sent me one, and then another. That other guy... And I think the bartender sent me a few... Five?" she finally incorrectly concluded.

Becker sighed. What was he supposed to do now? As much as he didn't want to deal with this, he knew how guilty he'd feel if he left Linda on the subway to find her own way home. She probably would forget to get off at the right stop, or get lost on the trek from the subway station to her apartment, or maybe even pass out and stay on the subway until it reached the end of the line. He knew he couldn't just hope for the best. Who knows what kind of trouble she'd get herself into...

This left him two options: He could try to remember where she lived and take her there, make sure she got up to her apartment, and set her alarm clock for her, so hopefully she'd get to work on time, even though she'd certainly have a hangover... OR he could just take her to his apartment and let her sleep on his couch. The second option sounded much more do-able, since he was certain he knew where his own apartment was... It also included the benefit that he could just set his own alarm and personally make sure Linda got to work on time.

He stood up and walked toward Linda who was still giggling as she laid on the dirty subway floor. He bent down and pulled her off the floor and back onto the subway seat. This time he sat next to her and kept ahold of her arm so that he might keep her from falling onto the floor again.

"Linda," he began, "I'm going to let you sleep on my couch tonight, okay?"

Linda smiled, "really? Oh! I'm so excited. It'll be like a sleepover! You hardly ever let me visit you or anything."

"Uh... okay," Becker wasn't sure what to say next, "Yeah... kind of like a sleep over... Except I'll be in the other room... with my door locked."

Linda laughed and leaned heavily against Becker's shoulder, "Can we go to my apartment first to get my alarm clock?" she asked, looking up at him with a rather serious expression, "I promised I'd be on time to work, and if I'm not, Dr. Becker..." she giggled, "You, I mean, and Margaret are gonna be mad..."

"I'll wake you up," Becker said, "This next stop is ours," he said, standing up and pulling Linda along with him to stand by the doors. They opened and Linda almost tripped out of them. Becker sighed and shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and slight amusement. Tomorrow was going to be a long day...

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Thank you to Helen Cullen who was my first, and will probably be my only reviewer. :) Just knowing that one person is reading this is pretty good. I didn't expect many people to read it. I can kind of tell Becker isn't a popular fandom just by looking at the amount of other Becker stories there are on here. **_

_**Oh... as always, review if you will. :) I love reviews, even if it's only one or two... In fact, a single review is much more special than 20 reviews. It seems more personal, don't you think?**_

_**Also, I found a picture on google of Linda dressed as a maid, and I'm wondering what that's all about... Is there a Becker episode where she is a maid, or pretends to be? If anyone knows, could you tell me which one it is? It looks like it might be funny... It could just be Shawnee Smith in a different role... I dunno... If you know, tell me! :)**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Get ready... This chapter is longer than usual. I hope you like it, Helen Cullen.**_

_**xxxxxx**_

Linda had started the morning in a confused daze, waking up to the sound of her boss telling her to get up. At first she had assumed that she had accidentally dozed off while at work again, and was rather concerned that he'd be angry with her. It was when she discovered that she was not at work that she was really concerned though. She had no memory of having been invited to Dr. Becker's apartment. The last thing she remembered was being in the bar, and maybe being on the subway, though that may have just been a very clouded dream.

Dr. Becker had explained briefly how she had ended up at his apartment and then he instructed her to get ready for work. Getting ready for work involved a quick shower and getting dressed in the outfit she had worn yesterday, since she had no spare clothing at Dr. Becker's apartment. They had taken the subway together and were now at work. With Becker's help, Linda arrived on time today, for the first time in a while.

As soon as they walked in, Linda looked at the clock and smiled, jumping up and down and pointing at it, "Look, Dr. Becker! I told you I'd be on time today! I promised, and I fulfilled that promise, see?"

"Very good, Linda," Becker replied as though she was a child. He said hello to Margaret and went back to his office.

"Good morning, Linda," Margaret smiled, "how are you feeling?"

Linda had a slight headache, but didn't quite feel hung-over, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. That meant she hadn't sobered up completely yet. She tilted her head as though she was thinking, "you know how when you drink so much that you're still a little drunk the next day?" she asked.

Margaret raised her eyebrows, "No... I can't say I do... Of course, I don't drink heavily, and if I did, I wouldn't do it when I knew I had work in the morning... Are you saying you're still drunk?" Her voice sounded very disapproving.

"Well... no," Linda said, "I mean, I'm not _drunk,_ drunk... Just kind of tipsy maybe. Only barely... I just feel a little wobbly when I walk and stuff. And it's kind of hard to focus when I look at things... I mean, not really hard; just harder than normal. I'm fine," she grinned.

A patient who had entered the office just after Linda and Becker had looked at her. He didn't look very pleased either. In fact, he looked very judgmental, as though he thought Linda was nothing more than a worthless idiot, "are you serious?" he asked, "they let drunk sorority girls work in doctor's offices now? What's the world coming to?"

"Oh, relax," Linda scoffed, "first off, I'm not a sorority girl; I've never even _been_ to college, thank you very much. And secondly, I'm not a doctor or anything, so what difference does it make if I'm a little drunk. What's the worst that could happen? Maybe I'll pronounce your name wrong or something when I call you for your appointment?"

Margaret rolled her eyes, "Linda, get back here."

Linda followed Margaret to the kitchen area where she was disappointed to hear Margaret immediately begin to complain, "Linda, you're wearing the same thing you wore yesterday and your breath smells like alcohol. And then you come in here and tell the patients that you're drunk? _Are _you? I mean, really... are you actually drunk? Even you don't normally make the patients _this_ uneasy."

Linda put her hands on Margaret's shoulders and looked her in the eyes, "calm down, Margaret. I'm not drunk," she whispered, not wanting the patients to hear anything more than they already had, "It's just like leftover affects from last night... It'll wear off soon, I'm sure... And I'm sorry that I am dressed the same as yesterday... I didn't have any extra clothing, and about my alcohol-smelling breath... I couldn't just use Dr. Becker's toothbrush! Eww!"

Margaret's mouth hung open, "You stayed with Dr. Becker last night?" she asked.

Linda nodded, "apparently," she said. Margaret still looked surprised. Linda laughed at Margaret's expression, "I know, right? I was just as surprised as you are! I had no idea I had gone there until he woke me up this morning."

"Why didn't he just take you home?" Margaret asked.

"He forgot where I lived," Linda told her. She giggled, "I probably did too. It was nice of him not to leave me on the subway though. One time, I was out with this guy, and I got really drunk, and the next morning I woke up on the subway. I never even saw him again. So... yeah... It could have been worse."

"Yes. It was uncommonly kind of him," Margaret agreed, "now, listen, are you okay to work? If you don't think you are, you need to go home. I don't want you making the patients feel like their health is in the hands of incompetent people."

"I think I'm okay," Linda said, "maybe I'll just stay back here for a while. You won't mind doing a little extra work for a bit, right?"

"Whatever," Margaret rolled her eyes, "you never do anything anyway."

xxxxxx

Linda turned her coffee cup around in circles as she sat at the table in the little kitchen area of the office. She pushed the cup to the middle of the table and stared at it. She was really tired, and being here at work with nothing to do wasn't helping. She closed her eyes. It was nice to close her eyes, as it made them sting a little less than having them open. Maybe she could just sit here with her eyes closed for a minute and then she'd feel better. Linda gasped and opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep again. At least she was sitting down this time. She had been dozing off all morning. Margaret didn't know this, because Linda had been staying out of her co-worker's way as best as she could.

"Linda, could you come up here for a minute and watch the front desk while I take a little break?" she heard Margaret call to her.

Linda sighed and forced herself away from the table, "Yeah," she said, dragging herself the short distance to take Margaret's place. She probably wouldn't have to do anything unless a new patient came in or unless Dr. Becker finished with one during the few minutes she was manning the desk.

She looked down at her hands. Her fingernails were painted, each one a different color. She put her hands flat on the desk, right next to each other and looked from her left pinkie finger, to her right, admiring the most interesting and colorful aspect in the room.

She took note of the colors, trying to do anything to keep herself awake._ Yellow, green, blue, shiny pink, silver. Next hand: orange, pink, shiny blue, purple, turquoise... Now she was painting her toenails. She had tons of different colored nail polish..._WAIT! No, she didn't! She blinked as she realized she had fallen asleep again.

That was a nice dream though. She thought how nice it would be if she could have every color of nail polish in the world. She did have quite a few, but not nearly as many as she had just had in her dream. Perhaps when she got paid next, she could buy four new colors. She thought about what colors they might be. The next thing she knew, she was clutching at the desk as she almost lost her balance.

Margaret's voice was in her ear at once, "Linda, are you falling asleep up there?" she scolded.

Linda shrugged, "a little," she admitted.

"Just go home, Linda," Margaret offered, "you won't be any use here if you're asleep. Get rested and be on time tomorrow. I appreciate that you made it on time today, but you're falling asleep while standing up. That's pretty bad."

Linda frowned, "I was only on time today because Dr. Becker woke me up. I would have forgotten to set my alarm. Are you guys really mad at me? I didn't mean to be this tired."

Margaret shook her head, "I'm not mad. You're not drunk now, so just don't drink, and you won't forget to set your alarm, right?"

"Yeah," Linda smiled, "I'm really sorry. You must think I'm pretty worthless."

"You're not worthless," Margaret told her, "Sometimes you don't show your worth, when you're slacking off, sleep deprived, hungover, or spaced out... But you and I both know you'd be much more help if you made an effort to be."

Linda nodded, "I'll be on time tomorrow... And I won't fall asleep while I'm here," she smiled.

Margaret grinned, "you're going to get this all figured out eventually. Today you managed to be on time, and tomorrow you can work on staying awake while you work. Maybe the next day we can get you actually doing some work..."

"Maybe," Linda agreed, "I'll see you tomorrow," she said as she walked out the door.

xxxxxx

She took the subway home and went to sleep as soon as she got there, after changing into pajamas, of course, because the clothing she was wearing was getting to be kind of gross, since this was the second consecutive day she had worn them.

An annoying ringing woke her up. It was her phone. She wondered who would call at such an hour, but then she recalled that she was the one sleeping at an odd time. It was the middle of the day, after all, actually after noon by now, so she got up and answered it.

"Hello?" she said, sounding much more tired than she had hoped to.

"Where have you been?" she heard someone say on the other end of the line, "I called you yesterday... like ten times. Not only did you never answer, but you didn't call me back or anything. I even left you messages a few times. Are you avoiding me?"

Linda blinked a few times. The voice sounded familiar, but not familiar enough for her to think this was someone she knew well enough to have worried them by not answering their phone call, "Who is this?" she finally asked.

"Miles, you idiot," he growled.

Linda felt a bit panicked now. She had thought Miles had given up after their argument, but now she could see she had been wrong. What was she supposed to do now? What should she say? For the moment, she was too shocked to say anything, so Miles continued to complain.

"So you're just going to ignore me now?" he spat, "you know, I came over last night, and your door man, or whatever the hell you call him, wouldn't let me in. I even explained that I was your boyfriend and everything."

"You came here?" Linda asked, inadvertently letting her voice betray her concern, "Miles... I told you I don't want to see you anymore... that means I don't want to talk to you either... You can't keep calling me and you can't come here."

"Aww," Miles began, "but you didn't mean that. We were just having a disagreement."

"No," Linda countered, "I did mean it... It wasn't just a disagreement. You hit me, Miles. I don't want you to call me again, okay?"

"Yeah, I know. And I wanted to apologize for that. You just made me really mad. It was a heat of the moment, sort of impulse thing. I didn't mean to hurt you. You want me to come over?" he asked.

"No!" Linda yelled, "You're not listening to me!"

"Fine, fine," Miles agreed, a little too easily, "You're still mad... I won't come over then. What were you doing last night though? You didn't come home, did you? Were you cheating on me?"

"Miles. You and I are not dating. I couldn't cheat on you, because we aren't dating each other anymore," Linda put this very simply, "but I wasn't hooking up with anyone last night... not that it's any of your business. I'm hanging up now. Don't call me again."

"Fine," Miles repeated, "I won't be calling you anymore," he hung up before she had the chance to.

Linda shuddered. She didn't like the tone of his voice, and she hoped very much that he wasn't planning on coming over to try to talk this over. She knew she was safe in her apartment though, because the doorman didn't let anyone who didn't live there into the building without specific permission from whichever tenant that person was there to see. As long as she didn't tell the doorman to let him come up, he couldn't enter the building at all.

Nevertheless, she double checked that her door was locked. She wondered if she should leave her apartment. He knew where she lived. If she just left, she wouldn't have to be worried at all. But then, like she had already concluded, he couldn't enter the building without permission.

She decided to just hang around her apartment. After talking to him on the phone, however, she couldn't get herself to go back to sleep. Instead, she went about her day, watching television, reading magazines, painting her toenails, and playing with her hair and makeup.

She felt a little guilty for being at home practically playing dress up all day instead of being at work. She had even considered going back to work as soon as she discovered that she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon. By then, however, the workday was over halfway over, so she decided to just stay home for the remainder of the day.

It was rather late at night now, and she was almost feeling tired again. Of course, she had felt a hint of drowsiness all day, but it was beginning to feel strong enough that she thought she just might be able to sleep, despite her uneasiness about Miles. However, she didn't go to sleep just yet. Instead, she flipped through the channels on her television for a while.

Linda jumped as she heard a knock at her door. The doorman hadn't called her and told her anyone was in to see her... Linda simply stayed put on her couch and stared at the door, wondering if maybe she hadn't really heard anything. But then she heard the knock again.

Sighing, she stood up and walked slowly to the door, staying as quiet as she could, so as to not give away that she was home. She wondered if it was one of the other people who lived on her floor, wanting to yell at her for some reason or another... She didn't think she had done anything disruptive, but she could never be certain. Linda peeked out the peep-hole in her door.

Linda's breath caught in her throat. Sure enough, Miles was standing there, looking straight ahead, almost as though he could see her. He didn't look angry. He looked just like he was a normal guy coming to visit his friend. He knocked again, causing Linda to gasp and to flinch back away from the door.

"I know you're in there," his muffled voice said, but Linda remained quiet, "I just want to talk," he assured her, "I know you're mad at me, and you might be scared since I hit you, but I'm telling you, I really didn't mean to do that. I'm really sorry. I just want to talk. I just want to know what I can do to make things better again. I really like you, Linda. Just give me another chance."

For a moment Linda was silent. She wondered if she should just pretend not to be home and wait for him to leave. What if he came back tomorrow? And the next day? Would he keep bothering her until she agreed to talk to him? Maybe he really was sorry... Maybe Linda had been unfair when she never really gave him a chance in the first place. She had wanted to break up with him before they were even dating. Maybe she really did owe it to him to give him a second chance, since she never really gave him a first chance...

Against her better judgment, Linda opened the door. Miles smiled when he saw her, but Linda did not smile back. She was worried. As soon as she opened the door, she wanted to go back in time and do the opposite. She felt like an idiot in a scary movie.

"Can I come in?" Miles asked.

Linda wanted to say no, but she had already opened the door; not allowing him in at this point would just be awkward. She nodded and led the way into the living room. Keeping her distance, she sat on one end of the couch while Miles sat on the other.

Miles looked very calm, "I'm sorry I hit you," he said, "I know I've already said it, but I mean it. I was just so frustrated with you."

Linda could feel her breathing speeding up. She really didn't want him to be here. If he hit her once, he could probably do it again just as easily. She wasn't stupid... at least she didn't think she was. She knew guys like Miles wouldn't just apologize and never do it again.

He moved closer to her, "Do you forgive me?" he asked.

Linda closed her eyes and shook her head. She was scared. He hadn't taken rejection well the last time. Why would he this time?

"Come on," Miles insisted, "I keep telling you I'm sorry. What more do you want?"

Linda didn't look at him. She kept her eyes closed. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to him, but she wanted to chose her words carefully, to get her message across to him, but without offending him.

"You haven't even said one word to me, Linda," Miles was beginning to sound agitated, "I came here to apologize, but now I'm thinking maybe you should be apologizing. Are you this difficult to please? Does everyone you date have to be perfect? One little mistake and you won't even talk to me?"

"Miles," Linda finally said, hearing her own voice shaking ever so slightly, "This isn't about you hitting me. I just don't want to date you, okay? It's nothing personal. I just don't think you and I are compatible."

"Yes we are," Miles argued, "you-"

"No," Linda interrupted, "that's a perfect example right there. You don't even listen when I talk to you. I keep telling you the same thing over and over and over and over again and you keep ignoring me. I. Don't. Want. To. Date. You. That's that."

Miles looked pretty angry now, "Listen," he growled, moving even closer so that Linda was leaning back as far as the couch allowed in order to stay as far away from him as she could, "I'm trying to settle this like an adult, but you're acting like a child. Why don't you grow up and tell me what your problem is?"

Linda frowned, "I just don't like you," she said, "it's kind of like how you don't like certain foods... There's not a tangible reason... You just don't like it. Of course, I could say now, after getting to know you better, that I don't like that you are mean and violent," she added.

He grabbed her arms and pushed her hard into the couch, "am I?" he said, sounding even more angry than before, "and why do you think that is? Maybe because you're an immature bitch!"

Linda winced. He was squeezing her arms very tightly, "Miles, let go," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. She tried to pull her arms out of his grasp, but was unsuccessful, "Miles," she said again, "let me go, or I'm going to scream. People will hear me."

He roughly slapped his hand over her mouth, but kept his other hand firmly wrapped around her arm, "you listen to me, _Linda_," he growled as she inadvertently let out a slight muffled whimper, "I could get a girl so much better than you, and she wouldn't dare say the things you've said to me. You're lucky I'm paying any attention to you at all."

Linda wanted to protest, but she couldn't say or do much in her current position. She gripped one of his arms with her free hand, trying unsuccessfully to pull her other arm free. She struggled as much as possible to get away, but it only caused him to grab her harder. He was now holding onto her wrist, in a way that was a combination of a sharp twist and a painful squeeze. It hurt horribly, but struggling was only making it worse. She felt silent tears flowing down her cheeks as he continued to speak.

"Are you ready to try this again?" he asked. She stared up at him, not sure what he meant. She could feel his fingers making bruises on her arm and cheek. If her jaw wasn't noticeably bruised before, it would be now, and her wrist throbbed. He shook her roughly and twisted her arm until she cried out a gasp muffled by his hand still over her mouth, "I said, are you ready to try this again?"

She nodded as best as she could.

He let go of her slowly, as though he wanted to be ready to silence her again if she tried anything. Instead, however, she simply laid still where he had pushed her down to previously. She could feel herself shaking and was afraid to look at her wrist to access the damage he had caused, afraid to make eye-contact with him, and afraid to move. He leaned in close to her face. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing what to expect.

He placed a light kiss on her lips and stood up, "I'll be in the bedroom," he said. He walked out of the living room and into her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

For a while, maybe even a few hours, Linda remained on the couch where he left her. Her wrist hurt if she tried to move it. She figured it might be broken. It was already turning various shades and looked swollen. Linda wasn't a doctor, but she had spent enough time at Dr. Becker's office to know that her wrist wasn't just bruised. She didn't know what to do. She knew she should call the police, or go down to the police station and report him at least. Could he get in trouble though? He didn't break in. She had opened the door and allowed him to come in. And he didn't really hit her this time. He just grabbed her hard and put his hand over her mouth pretty hard... but she didn't think that counted as hitting.

If she told the police, would Miles find out and be even more angry with her? The police could make him leave her apartment, but she still had to go to work, and they couldn't kick him out of the whole city... He could get angry and find her elsewhere. She didn't even want to know what he'd do to her if he found out she had told on him...

Linda looked around the room. She had to get out of here right now. She didn't know what she'd do about Miles, but at least for the moment, she could get out of her apartment. Her purse was in her bedroom. She didn't want to risk going in there to get it. She quickly changed into some clothing she had lying around. It was a t-shirt and sweat pants, but it was better than the pajamas she had been wearing. She grabbed her jacket and looked at the clock. It was 3:30 in the morning. This gave her four and a half hours before work.

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of her apartment and made her way downstairs. She had no idea what she was going to do for the next four and a half hours...

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Poor Linda... What's she going to do for four and a half hours? What will Margaret and Dr. Becker think when she shows up to work in sweatpants and a t-shirt? What's going to happen? Stick around, and find out. **_

_**And Review, damn you! ;)**_


	6. Chapter 6

As Linda walked down the sidewalk, she felt around in the pockets of her jacket. What she found there was $2.35 and a receipt from the restaurant where she had eaten lunch the last time she wore this jacket. She knew $2.35 wasn't going to get her very far. She could use it to take the subway, or she could use it to buy a drink or a snack. She decided she might as well walk, since she had four and half hours to get to work. She'd take her time, and buy a drink or something when she got closer. Finding an open restaurant might be challenging though. She figured the earliest openings would be 6:00 AM, unless it was a 24-hour place.

She found that she wasn't sure what to do with her hurt wrist. Holding it while she walked felt awkward, but leaving it at her side was painful. She gently tried to position her hand in her pocket so that her wrist could stay relatively still as she walked, but that didn't work either. Finally she decided to just hold it with her other hand, even if she did look weird.

Linda decided she'd wait until work and then ask Dr. Becker if he thought her wrist was broken. She'd think up some lie to explain how it happened, of course. This way she wouldn't have to wait at the hospital and endure all of the weird stares she would get for being at a hospital at 3:30 in the morning. People don't get hurt at 3:30 in the morning unless they are doing something they shouldn't be. She didn't want people judging her.

Despite her wrist hurting and feeling a little tired, Linda was rather enjoying walking through the city. It wasn't often she was awake at this hour and also sober at the same time. The city was so dead compared to usual. It was also a bit eerie. She walked about a dozen blocks and then came across a restaurant/bar that was still open. She smiled to herself and went in. She sat up at the counter. There were only three other people there besides the bartender.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, looking at Linda, "we stopped serving alcohol at two o'clock," he added, probably due to her tired, messy appearance.

"I've got $2.35," Linda told him, "Is that enough for anything?"

The bartender looked apologetic, "I'll get you something on the house, hun."

"Really? Thank you," Linda smiled.

"Any preference?" he asked, "I can get you something alcoholic if you want... just don't tell anyone else," he grinned.

Linda shrugged, "Whatever you suggest," she told him, "something alcoholic would be great," she added, smiling.

He walked a few paces away and began mixing some things and came back with a drink. Linda didn't really know what it was called, but it was fruity and she liked it. She was glad to see that although the day had started off on a very bad note, it was quickly getting better already.

"Do you live around here?" the bartender asked, making small talk to pass the time, since he didn't have many customers at the moment.

"Yeah," Linda told him, "sort of. I live a while that way," she said, pointing in the direction of her apartment. She looked at the clock. It was 4:07, "Wow," she said to herself. It had taken her longer than she thought to walk here, "I guess I live about a half-hour walk away," she added.

"You been living there for a while?" he asked.

She nodded, "yep. I usually don't walk. I take the subway most of the time, so I just zip right through this part of the city without even noticing it."

He nodded, "so... what brings you over here at four o'clock in the morning?" he asked.

"Just killing time before work," she said.

"What line of work are you in?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"Um... I work at a doctor's office... I don't have to be there until eight o'clock... I just had to get out of my apartment," Linda told him. She supposed it didn't matter if she let a little bit of information slip to him. What harm could it do? She didn't know him, and he didn't know her, or Miles, "I'm having a bit of a problem with a guy I was dating."

He nodded again, "I don't mean to pry," he said, "you seem like such a nice girl... what's his problem with you? Or have you got a problem with him?"

"You can pry all you want," Linda told him, "this guy won't take no for an answer. I keep telling him to leave me alone, but he won't."

The bartender narrowed his eyes, "do you want me to call the police for you or something? I mean, how bad is this guy?"

Linda shook her head, "forget I said anything. It's not a big deal."

"Okay," he dropped the subject, "how's the drink?"

"Good," Linda smiled, "can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure," he responded.

Linda hesitated as she looked around, "if this place doesn't get too busy, could I lay down in one of the booths over there for a couple hours?"

"Yeah," he said, "we usually get kind of busy around 7:00 with the breakfast crowd, so you can sleep in one of the booths if you want, probably until about 6:45."

"That's so nice of you," Linda told him, "I know I didn't pay for my drink, but here's a tip anyway," she offered her $2.35 to the bartender.

"Thanks, hun, but why don't you keep it for lunch or something," he suggested.

Linda frowned, "I guess that's probably a good idea," she agreed, "thanks for the drink and for letting me hang out here for a while," she said, making her way over to the booth in the corner.

"No problem," he said.

As soon as she found a non-painful way to position her wrist, she fell asleep very quickly, especially considering that her makeshift bed was a booth at a bar. She slept soundly until approximately 6:45, just as the bartender had promised. He woke her up, saying that she was welcome to stay for breakfast. She didn't really feel hungry, so she declined, but thanked him anyway. Then she began her short walk to Dr. Becker's office.

It wasn't a very long way, and it only took her about fifteen minutes to walk there. She figured it was probably just after seven o'clock now. That meant she would have another hour to wait. Margaret and/or Dr. Becker probably got there a little early on a normal day. She hoped so, because she didn't have a key. They may have given her one once, but she didn't remember if they had or not. At any rate, she certainly didn't have it with her now.

At this point, she wished she had taken up the bartender on his offer. At least then she'd have something to do. She didn't want to walk all the way back though, so she just sat in the door frame of the doctor's office and waited.

She was kind of cold, so she pulled her jacket's hood over her head and hugged herself with her uninjured arm. The other, she let rest on her leg. Before she knew it, she had dozed off again, and the next thing she heard was Dr. Becker's annoyed voice, growing louder and louder as he approached.

"Out of all the places in the city, you people chose to make my doorway your main hang out? I mean, I'm sure it sucks to be homeless and all, and I'm sure you're trying really hard to get a job, but the least you could do is give me the courtesy of staying the hell out of my doorway," he ranted, "and another thing, you've got the whole city- that includes the subways, which are a hell of a lot warmer, and that includes park benches-probably more comfortable, yet you decided that this particular doorway is where you want to sleep. You don't even consider that people might be walking through it at some point. I mean, what's a doorway for if not to sleep in? I swear, before long-"

"Dr. Becker," Linda interrupted his rant and looked up at him, pushing her hood back to confirm her identity, "It's me... I got here early. I was waiting for you or Margaret and I must have fallen asleep... What time is it?"

Becker looked shocked. He shook his head and looked at his watch, "It's seven-thirty," he told her, "how long have you been here?"

"Um... about a half-hour," she admitted.

"I know Margaret and I have been telling you that you need to make an effort to be on time, but this is a little extreme... You don't need to get here an hour early," Becker looked completely confused. He reached his hand down to offer it to Linda to help her stand up, "Being on time, or even just a few minutes late is perfectly acceptable... for you at least."

Without thinking, she reached up with her injured arm. As soon as she grabbed his hand, she knew she had made a mistake, but he pulled her up too quickly for her to undo this error. She winced and pulled her hand away from him.

Becker looked shocked all over again, "what's wrong?" he asked.

"Dr. Becker," Linda began, grimacing in pain, "can we go inside?"

He nodded, clearly confused, "yeah," he unlocked the door and held it open for Linda.

When they were both inside, there was a very awkward silence between them. Linda knew she had to tell Dr. Becker about her wrist, but she had forgotten to think up an excuse to explain what had happened. He was looking at her as though he was waiting for her to say or do something. He knew something was wrong.

"Are you hurt?" he finally said. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "let me see."

Linda frowned and lifted her arm for Dr. Becker to see. He carefully rolled up her jacket sleeve to reveal her very bruised and swollen wrist, "Oh my god, Linda... what happened?"

"I fell down," she lied, "... can you fix it here?"

"Yeah," he said, "I probably can. Come back to the examining room. You're going to have to take the jacket off so I can see better."

She followed him back to the examining room and sat down. She waited while Becker left to get some things he needed to patch her up. She hated being a patient. She took her jacket off, folded it, and laid it beside her. When Dr. Becker returned, Linda could see him looking her over. He was looking at more than just her wrist. She could see his eyes looking up and down both of her arms and then his eyes met hers.

Becker shook his head as though he was disappointed, "Linda," he began, sounding like a father whose child had done something stupid and had to have their error explained to them very carefully, "did your boyfriend do this? Mark, or whatever his name is?"

"Miles," she corrected. Her eyes widened, "No, though... I fell, like I said. I was walking down the stairs, instead of taking the elevator. I shouldn't have," she laughed, "but what's done is done..."

Becker ignored her but didn't contradict her, for the moment anyway. Instead he sat down in front of her and did what he was trained to do. He took her arm in his hands and carefully examined it, "I could do an x-ray if you want," he told her, "but I can already tell what happened."

"You can?" she asked, worried.

"Yes," he said, "I can see that this bone," he said, touching it lightly, "is sprained, and this one," he lightly touched another, "is broken."

Linda must have looked worried, because what he said next sounded much more reassuring and gentle than anything Dr. Becker had ever said to her.

"I can fix it easily," he told her, "you'll be fine, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd tell me what actually happened."

Linda shook her head, "I already told you," she lied again.

"I'm going to give you an anesthetic," Becker told her, keeping his voice calm. He did this quickly and then waited for it to kick in before continuing. While he waited, he continued to press Linda for answers,"You probably don't remember, but the other night while you were drunk, you and I talked to each other... You told me that Miles hit you and that's where you got the bruise on your cheek," Becker said, trying not to sound like a bully, but really wanting to convince Linda to confess the truth, "and unless I miss my guess," he stated, indicating the bruises up and down her arms, "these hand-shaped bruises probably didn't come from falling down the stairs, not to mention that your bruise from 'running into the cabinets' has gotten bigger and spread to the other side of your face as well."

Linda looked down, averting her eyes from Dr. Becker's. He obviously knew what had happened. Nevertheless, Linda decided to persist on denying it, "well, you know me... I say some pretty crazy things when I'm drunk," she laughed, "I was probably drunk when I fell down the stairs too." Becker frowned. He obviously wasn't in the mood for this. He didn't even have to say anything. Linda was certain he knew, and she was certain he wasn't going to just let it slide, "Will you please not say anything?" Linda asked.

"Not say anything?" Becker asked, starting to sound aggravated, "to whom?"

"To anyone... To Margaret, to the police, to Miles," she said, "I don't want Margaret to know, and I don't want Miles to know that I told you... He'll be so mad."

"Linda, what exactly is your plan?" Dr. Becker asked, "are you planning on shrugging this off and seeing him again? You don't like him, he's actually broken your arm now... How far does he have to go before you do something about it? What are you waiting for?"

"I just don't want him to be mad at me!" Linda told him, her voice increasing in volume, "They can't put him in jail, because I let him in to my apartment. He didn't break in or anything. And he didn't really hit me this time... The most that will happen is that they'll tell him not to come near my apartment, but he can still find me other places. What will he do if I get him in trouble? He'll be really mad..."

"Linda, what do you think will happen if you_ don't_ get him in trouble?" Becker asked, looking at her right in the eyes, "This is what he did to you _before_ you told anyone," he gestured at her wrist, "what did you do to tick him off this time?"

Linda frowned, "I told him I didn't like him, and that he was mean and violent."

Becker looked at her, "if you don't tell the police, I will. You might think I'm the bad guy here, but I am not going to let you keep letting him hurt you like this. It's my job to look out for your well-being, as your boss... and as your friend."

Linda hesitated. She wished she could just forget about this, but she knew Dr. Becker was right, "Okay," she finally agreed, "but what if he doesn't get in trouble? They can't put him in jail just for this, can they?"

"I'm not a lawyer, but I'm pretty sure if you've told him to leave you alone and he won't, they can put him in jail for stalking. And I don't know what specifically happened, but I'm fairly certain he can get jail time for breaking your arm too. Was it an accident? I mean, did he grab you too hard and accidentally twist your arm the wrong way or what?" Becker asked.

Linda shook her head, "I don't think it was an accident," she said, not wanting to describe the entirety of their encounter.

Becker nodded, "okay... Well, I think telling the police is definitely the right course of action. You can at least get a restraining order, and that should scare him off a little if nothing else." He drew his attention back to her injury, "can you feel the anesthetic kicking in? It should probably be working pretty well by now," he said.

Linda nodded, "my arm barely hurts at all anymore," she told him.

"Good," he said, "you'll probably feel this a little, so don't be surprised."

Linda held her breath as Dr. Becker re-set her arm. It didn't really hurt as much as she had thought it might. He carefully put a splint on her arm and then stood up from the stool he had been sitting on through all this.

"You're probably going to want to put ice on that just for about twenty minutes at a time every few hours. It's not necessary, but it'll keep it from swelling," he told her.

Linda nodded and looked up at Becker, "thank you," she told him.

"No problem," he said, "that's my job. Now, if you'd like, you can have an hour or two off work so you can go down to the police station."

Linda shook her head, "no," she insisted, "Margaret will be mad at me, and I don't want to explain this to her."

"She's going to notice that your arm is broken when she sees it," Becker told her, "and you know she'd be very supportive if you'd just tell her."

Linda sighed and leaned back against the wall. She could feel tears starting to well up in her eyes, "will you please come with me? After work maybe?" she asked, closing her eyes to try to prevent her tears from falling. She hated to let people see her cry. "Please," she pleaded again.

"Yeah," Becker agreed without hesitation, "of course..."

Linda kept her eyes closed, but could feel hot tears streaming down her face. She breathed in, as calmly as she could at the moment, yet it turned out sounding like a pathetic whimper.

"Linda... come here," Becker said, holding his arms out, offering Linda a hug which Linda gladly accepted. Dr. Becker was not known to be caring, at least not any more caring than his job required, and was definitely not known to give out hugs. Linda sobbed into his chest, partially because she didn't want to deal with Miles and the police, and partially because she knew that she must have looked completely and utterly pathetic to bring Becker to this point of concern and compassion.

She would have liked to sit like this all day, in the safe company of one of her closest friends, but she knew she had to regain her composure before Margaret came in, and before she doomed herself to always be seen by her boss as a helpless, fragile little girl. She sniffed as she forced herself to cease crying and she pulled herself away from her boss, forcing a smile, but not able to bring herself to say anything just yet.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, "yeah," she said, "I'm sorry I cried on you."

Becker smiled slightly.

Linda breathed in and out a few times to regain her bearings, "I guess I'll go hang out in the kitchen until Margaret gets here. She'll be so surprised that I'm here early," she smiled and was happy that she was able to keep herself from becoming depressed. She always felt that she was lucky that she had the ability to stay positive when so many other people did not.

"Alright," Becker said, "and if you need anything, if your wrist doesn't feel right, or if you just need to talk, I'll be back here, okay? And we're going to go to the police station after work, right?"

Linda nodded, "thanks again," she said.

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Hooray! Becker is so nice. Thank you for reading thus far, and please review if you want. I'll be working on the next chapter. I think two more chapters ought to do it... three at most. :)**_

_**A couple notes: **_

_**I don't know how to treat a broken arm... I thought about having Becker use the medical names of the bones, but I figured he wouldn't bother since he was talking to Linda, who might not have known what he was talking about anyway... If I am wrong about the treatment process, just ignore it, and I'm sorry... I'm not a doctor, and I've never had a broken arm. I've had a broken finger, but I didn't go to the doctor for it. I fixed it myself. O_O I'm inventive like that. ;)  
**_


	7. Chapter 7

Linda was sitting at the kitchen table, holding ice over her wrist when Margaret came in. Apparently Linda went completely unnoticed, as Margaret didn't seem to expect her to be here yet, thus didn't check the kitchen.

"Morning, Dr. Becker," Margaret called out. Becker mumbled something incoherent back to her. She hung her jacket up and made her way into the kitchen.

"Hi, Margaret," Linda beamed. Margaret looked surprised, "I bet you didn't expect me to be here on time, did you? Well, I told you guys I'd be on time, and I am. On my own this time. I didn't have anyone there to tell me or anything. I came in all on my own."

"Well, I must admit I am certainly surprised, Linda," Margaret smiled, "I'm proud of you for committing to something and actually doing it. I honestly didn't expect you to be on time, but now I know I should have more faith in you. And you should take this as a learning experience for yourself as well. Now you know you can do anything if you just commit yourself to it."

Linda smiled, "Wow, Margaret," she began, "that's a really nice thing to say."

Smiling back, Margaret continued, "I think part of the problem is that you don't expect anything from yourself. If you'd set higher standards for yourself, I think you'd be much more dependable, and probably much more proud of yourself. It feels good to have accomplished a goal, don't you think."

"Sure," Linda agreed.

"Margaret," they heard Dr. Becker call from his office, "can you come in here for a minute?"

"I'll be right there, John," she called back to him, then looked at Linda, "I hope you haven't confused his since of time," she joked, "If he yells at me, he'll regret it."

_xxxxxx (Margaret's point of view-ish)_

Margaret walked back to Dr. Becker's office, already prepared to argue with him if need be. She couldn't imagine what reason he'd have to argue with her, but she knew that wouldn't necessarily mean she wouldn't get yelled at anyway. Usually Becker knew better than to pick a fight with Margaret, since she always won said fights. Nevertheless, she prepared herself for whatever verbal lash he might throw at her.

"What is it, John?" she asked as she walked into his office.

"Come in," he said, looking much more serious than he usually did, "close the door."

Margaret frowned and furrowed her brow, "what's wrong?" she asked, closing the door and walking up close to her boss. He was speaking softly, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear whatever he was planning on saying. Margaret assumed a patient had some horrible sickness and he wanted her to tell them so he wouldn't have to.

"It's nothing immediately pertinent," he promised her, "so don't be worried; I just want to talk to you about something... regarding Linda, but you have to promise you won't tell her that I told you."

"John," she started, shaking her head, "she finally made it here on time; you're not going to fire her, are you? I mean, sure, she's not always reliable, but we've been over this... I barely even need anyone helping me anyway, and she needs this job much more than you need a better qualified employee."

"No," Becker said, "not that... That's more of your problem anyway, since you're the one who has to do extra work... Don't tell her I told you, but I just thought you should know..." he paused, as though he wasn't sure he should tell her after all.

"Go on," Margaret insisted, "I won't say anything."

"Well, you know her boyfriend, Mark, or whatever?" Becker asked.

"Yeah. It's Miles," Margaret corrected, "...I thought she broke up with him... She's not seeing him again, is she? I'm going to have to talk with her about that. That poor girl just can't stick up for herself. She doesn't even like him, you know."

"Yeah... I know," Becker continued, "but you need to promise not to tell her what I'm about to tell you, okay? No talking to her about it... She doesn't want anyone to know..."

"Oh my god," Margaret gasped as she finally pieced together a few pieces of the puzzle, "he hit her, didn't he? That bruise on her cheek? I can't believe I didn't figure that out sooner. She was telling me all about how she was nervous about rejecting him, then she came in with a bruise the next day... I should have known. I have to talk to her. I've got to get her to do something about it! What if he does something worse? She could really end up seriously hurt!"

"Margaret, will you just let me finish?" Becker asked, clearly becoming frustrated, "She and I already talked about it. We're going to the police station after work, so there's no need for you to say anything."

"Okay," Margaret reluctantly agreed, "I won't say anything to her, as long as you have it under control."

"I don't know if you noticed," Becker continued, "but she's got a splint on her arm this morning... I got here at 7:30 and she was sleeping in the doorway – said she had been here for half an hour. Her arm was broken, and she lied about the cause, but I persisted until she admitted the truth. I just thought you should know so that you might be sensitive to the situation, and not press her for answers if you wondered what happened. She asked me to not tell anyone, so you need to keep this under wraps."

"Of course," Margaret said, frowning, "I can't believe someone would do that to her, John."

"I know," Becker agreed, "I mean, she is frustrating sometimes, but... well, you know... What he did was pretty cruel, even when you consider what Linda may have said or done leading up to it..."

Margaret shook her head, "what a terrible man. Linda is such a sweet girl."

Becker grinned, "I don't know that I'd classify her as sweet," he said jokingly.

Margaret smiled too, "so you're going to take her to the police station right after work?"

"Yeah," he answered, "she didn't want to go at the time because she thought you'd be suspicious about her not being here."

"John," Margaret smiled again, "you are so sweet. You try to act like you don't care about people, but you and I both know you do. You didn't have to go with her, but you're willing to take some of your time so she'll feel better. You're really a great guy when you want to be."

"Oh, quit it, Margaret," he sighed, "get back to work."

Margaret laughed and made her way back to the kitchen. The first thing she did was draw her attention to Linda's arm, wanting to confirm what her boss had told her. Sure enough, Linda's arm was splinted, and she was holding ice over it. She didn't know why she hadn't noticed that before.

Before Linda could notice that she had been looking, Margaret averted her eyes and busied herself with work, to pretend she hadn't seen Linda's arm at all. She decided she would 'notice' it later and ask what had happened. It would be suspicious if she just didn't ask at all. For now, however, she would just work as normal, and normally, Linda hung around in the kitchen, not doing anything, so she had no reason to do anything different than usual.

_xxxxxx(back to Linda's point of view-ish)_

Linda had been sitting at the kitchen table for almost an hour now, and Margaret hadn't asked her to do anything. Usually she would have complained by now. Linda frowned. Maybe Margaret was just so happy that she was here on time that she didn't want to ask for anything more. Or maybe, since Linda was usually late, Margaret had forgotten she was here at all.

"Margaret," Linda finally said, hoping to remind Margaret that she was in fact here. She hoped Margaret wouldn't forget how she had been on time today.

"What is it, Linda?" Margaret asked, not turning around to face her.

"Margaret, are you mad at me?" Linda asked. Why wouldn't Margaret look at her.

"Of course not," Margaret assured her, "just trying to file these papers. You need something?"

"Do I need something?" Linda asked, confused. She was supposed to be working, but she was sitting in the kitchen instead, and Margaret was asking her if she needed something? "No... Do you?"

Margaret turned around and looked at her, "Sorry, Linda. I was preoccupied. What was your question?"

"I was just wondering why you haven't really said much to me today... Maybe you forgot I was here," she suggested.

"You know, I probably did on some level," Margaret smiled, and then drew her eyes down to meet Linda's splinted arm.

Linda held her breath. Margaret hadn't seemed to notice her arm until now. She also hadn't noticed the multiple bruises up and down her arms, the finger shaped bruises on her cheek and chin, or the fact that she was wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants today instead of her usual attire. She hoped Margaret wouldn't ask too many questions. Linda simply looked up at Margaret, waiting for what she might say.

"What happened, Linda?" Margaret asked.

"It's a long story, well, not really, but I could make it long. I was at my apartment, and I wanted to go outside. It was this morning; I wanted to go outside, because I had to go to work. But I decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator. ...because the elevator was out of order... because someone dropped an apple into one of the mechanical thingies. So instead of the elevator, I took the stairs. I was pretty tired, because I had gotten up early for work, so I guess I wasn't paying attention, and I fell down the stairs. I tripped over my..." she looked down, wondering what she could say she tripped over, "... jacket sleeve, because I wasn't wearing it. I was just holding it, and the sleeve got under my foot... so I tripped over it, and fell all the way down the stairs. I'm lucky I didn't break my legs too."

"Wow," Margaret looked surprised, "that is quite a misfortune. I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too," Linda smiled, happy that Margaret seemed to have bought her story. But what about the t-shirt and sweat pants? Would Margaret wonder why she was dressed so sloppily? She decided she should explain that too, "I'm wearing this because all of my other clothing are dirty. It's laundry day."

Margaret nodded, "Okay," she said, looking at Linda's arms and frowning.

Linda felt a little paranoid. Margaret was noticing the bruises on her arms, "I fell down lots of stairs," Linda said, "the little bruises are from that too. And the ones on my face. Lots of stairs," she held her breath and looked up at Margaret, expecting her co-worker to question her further. Margaret didn't argue at all. "and I didn't bring my purse today because I lost it."

Margaret nodded again, "sounds like you're having a pretty rough day," she said.

Linda narrowed her eyes. Margaret wasn't acting like her usual self. Usually, Margaret could see through any lie, but today she wasn't even trying. Of course, Linda wanted Margaret to believe her and not question it, but she also had a strange feeling that Margaret was just humoring her at this point. Maybe Dr. Becker had already told her and she just didn't care? She certainly hadn't really seemed interested when she initially asked Linda what had happened. Could it be that Margaret didn't care at all what had happened? Was she just accepting anything Linda said just to get to the end of their conversation?

Linda frowned, "yeah," she said, "I am."

Margaret frowned too, "if you need help with anything, let me know."

"Yeah," Linda signed. She had a feeling Margaret didn't mean that. She was just trying to be polite.

Margaret got back to work and didn't ask Linda to do anything all day. They spoke to each other now and then, and Linda actually did a little bit of work without being told, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Margaret was kind of trying to avoid her.

Linda always saw the best in people, and assumed everyone liked her, because she liked them. Sure, ever since she was a child people had been saying things about her such as that she had a short attention span, never listened or followed directions, was unreliable, and even idiotic, but these same people always seemed to care when things got tough. Either they were yelling at her, or they were praising her; there was hardly ever actual indifference. Linda would have felt better if Margaret had yelled at her all day. Negative attention was better than no attention. Margaret's indifference was something Linda had never seen, and she didn't like it one bit. She didn't want to confront her about it though, because she didn't really want to talk to Margaret about Miles.

Near the end of the workday, there were no patients, and everyone was pretty quiet. Linda quietly made her way back to Dr. Becker's office. She knocked on the door and then opened it without waiting for Dr. Becker to actually tell her to come in.

"Dr. Becker?" she said, walking in and closing the door behind her.

"What is it, Linda?" he asked, looking up from a paper he had been looking at before she had knocked.

"Um... Do you know why Margaret might be mad at me?" Linda asked, "She isn't acting mean or anything, just kind of avoiding me like she doesn't want to talk to me today. I was on time and everything. I don't know what I did wrong. I think she might know what happened with me and Miles, but she's not asking me as much as she usually does. I don't think she cares anymore. Maybe I'm just being paranoid... she's probably just tired or something... Never mind..." She turned around to leave, but Dr. Becker stopped her.

"Linda," he began, "maybe she does have a suspicion of what happened, but just knows that you wouldn't want to talk about it. You could just tell her. You'd probably feel better afterward, so you wouldn't feel like you're hiding things from someone you work with every day."

Linda nodded, "do you think she'll think I'm an idiot for letting it happen?" she asked.

Becker shook his head, "you didn't let it happen, Linda. You shouldn't have to worry about letting your boyfriend into your apartment, and you shouldn't have to worry about some guy persisting to stalk you after you've told him to back off. Margaret will see that it wasn't your fault. It's Mark's fault, not yours. Margaret will see that easily."

Linda smiled. She didn't know why Becker couldn't remember Miles's name, but she didn't mind. Miles didn't deserve to be remembered. Then she frowned and looked into Becker's eyes, "I just am afraid she'll treat me differently if I tell her," she said.

"Then you need to tell her that," Becker suggested, "tell her that you don't want her to see you any differently, and be sure to confirm that you're still the same person you always have been. Don't let this guy change who you are. Just be your normal self, and I'm sure Margaret won't treat you any differently than normal. But until you tell her what happened, she's probably going be wondering non-stop and might treat you differently just because of that."

"Okay," Linda breathed in deeply, "I guess I've got to tell her then. Can't keep secrets from my best friends," she smiled up at Becker. She really admired him and thought of him as one of her very best friends. She was sure the feeling wasn't entirely mutual, but as least he seemed to like her enough not to fire her.

"Trust me," Becker said, "your friends will appreciate that you trust them enough to tell them. That's what friends are for."

Linda nodded, "thank you, Dr. Becker," she said, hugging him and refusing to let go until he hugged her back, "I'll see you later. After work..."

She must have looked worried when they broke their embrace, "everything's going to be fine, Linda," Becker assured her.

Linda smiled, "I know," she said, "see ya."

Becker nodded and she turned to leave.

She made her way out the door and started on the too short walk back up to where Margaret was working. She would have felt nervous and full of dread, but she didn't give herself enough time to be. She wanted to make this quick: to just say it, and so she did.

"Margaret, don't think of me any differently than normal," she said. Margaret turned to face her but didn't have time to say anything before Linda continued her confession, "Miles twisted my arm and broke it, he grabbed my arms and that's why I have bruises, and the ones on my face are from him too. I am dressed like this and I don't have my purse because my clothing and purse were in my room and Miles was in there, so I just left, and I was here early because I didn't want to stay at home with Miles there. I told Dr. Becker already, because he kind of guessed on his own when he fixed my arm, and he and I are going to the police station after work, so you don't have to complain and tell me that I should do something about it, because it's already taken care of." She paused to take a breath and then smiled, "Sheesh. I'm glad I got that off my chest," she turned to leave.

"Linda," Margaret stopped her, "he's at your house still?"

Linda shrugged, "I dunno... he was there when I left, but that was hours and hours ago."

"Well, when you talk to the police, definitely tell them that he might still be there," Margaret suggested, "and you might want to stay with a friend if they can't find Miles right away, alright? If you can't find anyone else, give me a call. I'd gladly let you stay over with me and Lewis. I mean that."

Linda nodded, "okie dokie."

"And Linda," Margaret added, "I'm glad you told me. I won't treat you any differently."

Linda grinned, "thanks, Margaret."

"You're welcome," she said, "now go file these patient's charts," she ordered, handing a stack of manila folders to Linda.

Linda laughed and set the folders down on the desk, "good one, Margaret."

She walked back to the kitchen, but was able to hear Margaret mumble behind her, "that wasn't a joke..." She smiled to herself, and for the first time in a while, she felt like everything was going to be okay.

_**xxxxxx**_

_**Some more notes:**_

_**I used to watch Becker all the time when I was younger, but I haven't seen many episodes recently, so any little thing that's inaccurate is probably due to that... (really... I watched Becker all the time when it originally aired... My parents watched it, and I thought it was funny... So while most kids were watching Hey Arnold and Rugrats, I was watching Becker and Southpark... Okay, okay... I watched Hey Arnold and Rugrats too. ^_^)**_

_**Anyway, I was watching an episode the other night and Margaret said the office opens at 9:00... I had guessed 8:00 and that's when I said it opened in this story... I doubt it really matters much to anyone... but you can pretend it says 9:00 instead of 8:00 if you really care to. ^_^**_

_**I've already began working on the next chapter, but it's a little rough... I'm wanting to end this in one (or maybe two) more chapters, but ending stories is always difficult for me, so I'm going to take my time and try not to screw it up too bad. Don't be mad if it takes a little while longer than usual for me to post the next chapter(s).**_

_**Also - REVIEW! ^_^  
**_


	8. Chapter 8

Finally, the work day was over. Linda, however, would have rather hoped it wasn't, because this meant that she had to go talk to the police soon. She thought about just leaving quietly so Dr. Becker couldn't make her go, but then she thought she didn't really have anywhere to go. She couldn't go back home knowing that Miles might still be there. He'd probably be livid that she had left that morning without telling him. She shuddered.

Instead of insisting that they be on their way, Linda decided to give Dr. Becker all the time in the world. She knew she had to tell the police, but that didn't mean it couldn't wait another twenty minutes. Linda sat down that the kitchen table and began to read an old magazine from the patient waiting area.

"Geeze," she said to herself, "no wonder the patients are always so bored... This magazine is almost older than I am..."

"Linda," Becker called from the back as Margaret was putting her coat on in preparation to leave.

"Yeah?" Linda called back. Apparently they were both too lazy at the moment for either to bother actually walking up to the other to speak instead of yelling back and forth.

"I'll be done in about ten or fifteen minutes," he said, "stay put until then."

"Okie dokie," she yelled back, "there's no hurry."

Margaret smiled at Linda who threw the magazine down on the table and sighed, "do you want me to stay for a couple minutes? So you're not waiting all alone? I know how easily you get bored."

Linda looked up at her, "you don't have to," she said, "your husband is probably waiting for you to get home. I'll be okay. Ten or fifteen minutes is nothing when you're day-dreaming. Hell, I might even do some real dreaming. I could probably fall asleep right here. I'm freaking exhausted."

"Alright," Margaret said, "hey, did you find out who you're staying with tonight?"

"I'll figure something out," Linda said, "hopefully they'll find Miles right away and I can just go home and sleep there."

Margaret nodded, "I won't be angry if you sleep in tomorrow and are a little late to work. You say you're exhausted, and with good reason. If you need a little extra time, feel free to take it. The mornings aren't usually that busy anyway; I can handle an hour or two without you... I usually do anyway," she grinned.

"Hey," Linda complained, "I thought you said you wouldn't treat me differently... I might be late tomorrow, but not because I'm allowed to be... If I'm late, you better complain about me being unreliable... I don't need any special treatment."

Margaret laughed, "whatever you say, Linda," she turned and opened the door, "I'll see you tomorrow, at eight o'clock sharp."

"We'll see," Linda grinned back.

Linda leaned forward and placed her forehead on the table. She felt she really could probably fall asleep right here and now. She'd only get ten minutes of sleep though. She brought her arms up and folded them with her hands on her elbows as a makeshift pillow for her head. Sitting at the table like this was surprisingly comfortable. She heard the door open. Margaret must have forgotten something.

"Hey again, Margaret," Linda called, not bothering to lift her head up, "Did you forget something?"

Margaret didn't say anything back. She assumed her co-worker just hadn't heard her say anything. She heard Margaret's footsteps walking over to her and then felt Margaret's hands on her shoulders, except her fingers were longer than usual...

"Dr. Becker?" Linda asked, sitting up and turning far enough to see who was standing behind her. She felt her blood run cold when she saw that it wasn't Dr. Becker who was standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders. It was Miles.

Miles frowned, "Dr. Becker? Why would you think I was him?" he asked. He pulled Linda to her feet and turned her around to face him, "you're cheating on me," he said, in more of a statement than a question, "with _him._"

Linda shook her head, "Of course not! Dr. Becker's my boss... And he doesn't even really like me working here. He'd never want to be with me like _that_."

"But that doesn't stop you from trying," Miles growled, walking closer to Linda, who was already right next to him.

Linda backed up as he continued to walk closer, until she was right up against the wall. He still gripped her shoulders and was way too close for comfort. She was surprised Dr. Becker hadn't heard them yet and come to investigate. They were talking softly, but Linda was supposed to be only other person here. Hearing anyone talking in the other room should have made Becker suspicious. But then again, he didn't know that Margaret had left already. Perhaps he did hear their faint voices and assumed the conversation was between Margaret and Linda.

"I promise, nothing is going on between me and him," Linda squeaked as she looked up into Miles's eyes, "Dr. Becker is way too old for me to even be interested in him... And like I said before, he's my boss... who doesn't like me."

"I don't know if I believe you or not," Miles complained, "why did you leave this morning? I expected you to be around in the morning, but you weren't. And you didn't even tell me you were leaving. Who in the hell leaves so early in the morning that it's still dark out without even telling their boyfriend?"

"Miles," Linda tried to remain calm. Instead of making an excuse, she tried to tell the truth, "I left because you scared me. You twisted my arm until you actually broke it. I was scared of what else you might do, so I left. Can you blame me?"

Miles looked at her skeptically. His eyes traveled down to her splinted arm, which he grabbed and pulled upward so that he could see it better. Linda winced as he did this, much louder than she expected, "you liar," he accused, his voice raising as well, "you over-react to _everything! _ I didn't break your arm! If you tell people I did, I could do a hell of a lot worse. I'm not going to put up with you accusing me of things I didn't do."

Linda didn't want to argue with him, because she remembered how that worked out last time. Also, his newly issued threat did not sound like something she desired to test. Instead, she just didn't say anything at all.

"Why don't you come home now then?" Miles suggested.

Linda shook her head. At the risk of him getting angry and grabbing her broken arm again, she decided to play along as though they were dating, but not to agree to go home with him, "I can't... I've... Uh... I've got paper work I have to do," she lied, "I was just taking a break when you came in, but I need to get it done now... so... why don't you go home, and I'll meet you there later?"

"That's not going to cut it this time," Miles said, still gripping Linda's shoulder with one hand, "come on. You work all day. It's time to come home now," He was sounding more and more angry, and more and more impatient with each passing second, "Come on," he said through clenched teeth.

Linda shook her head. She wondered if now would be a good time to yell out to Dr. Becker. She didn't like the idea of having her boss fight her battles for her, but she was already certain that she couldn't win this particular battle on her own; she had tried once already. Miles seemed to be aware that he needed Linda to go quietly so Becker wouldn't hear a struggle or screaming, which was probably why he was even asking her to go home with him instead of simply dragging her out the door himself. He knew Linda could scream at any second.

Before Linda could call out for help, however, she noticed Miles take something out of his pocket – it was a pocket knife. Linda could feel her eyes betraying her concern, and she could feel her body trembling with exhaustion and fright. He opened the knife quickly, holding it very close to Linda, right over her heart, and demanded again, "Come on."

Linda could hear her own heart pounding in her chest. Would Miles really try to kill her? She felt this was probably just meant to be a threat, to get her home without a fight. He wanted to keep her, after all, so why would he want to kill her? However, she wouldn't be surprised if he actually did cut or stab her. Nevertheless, going back to her apartment with him seemed an awful lot like signing away her own life. At least if he stabbed her here, Dr. Becker could try to save her, him being a doctor and all... She shook her head, "No," she choked out, completely terrified of what repercussions there might be for this decision.

Miles looked infuriated, "Fine," he growled, slowly bringing the knife up to rest lightly on Linda's neck, "If you make one sound, I'll kill you," he threatened.

For as long as she could, Linda tried to remain calm, but it was only seconds before she let out a choked sob. She was in such a bad situation, and she didn't know what to do. She was so scared. What would he do now? She wondered if he was going to force her to go back with him to her apartment. She wondered what he would do to her if he did make it back there with her. He wasn't making any effort to drag her out of the doctor's office yet; Maybe he really did plan on killing her...

Linda squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. She felt Miles run his hand down her arm. He then let his hand rest on her hip, almost like he might if they had been dancing, except that his other hand held a knife to her throat, which would have made for a very awkward dance. Linda let her arms simply hang at her sides. Fighting back might get her killed, and she didn't know what else to do with them. Miles then ran his hand up her side until it rested on her breast. She wanted to push him off, but she figured him groping her would be much more tolerable than him slitting her throat in a rage.

Linda opened her eyes. She was up against the wall so that she could see down the hallway. Miles was facing her, so that he could not see the same view Linda did. For this reason, it was only Linda who saw Dr. Becker emerge from his office. Linda felt a glimmer of hope, but knew she needed Becker to stay calm and quiet so Miles wouldn't flip out and stab her and maybe Dr. Becker too. Before her boss could say anything, Linda shook her head ever so subtlety, trying to tell him without words to keep quiet for the time being. Miles was currently not focused on her face, so Linda mouthed the word "police" to Dr. Becker. He nodded in understanding, quickly and quietly dodging back into his office.

Miles was not shy about placing himself as close to Linda as possible. His larger body was completely pinning her smaller one to the wall. Miles brought his face close to Linda's. She cringed and turned her face away as much as she could, but could still feel his hot breath on her cheek. Linda knew she just had to withstand this long enough for the police to arrive and save her. Hopefully Miles would let her go once the police were here.

He kissed her, but she remained stiff and made no effort to kiss back. Nor did she make an effort to struggle, since he still held the knife at her neck. She endured a few seemingly never-ending moments of this, but when his hand trailed from her breast to the bottom hem of her shirt, up and back down her stomach and then to the top trim of her sweatpants, she began to panic. When he proceeded to run his thumb between the elastic of her sweatpants and the skin covering her hip bone, Linda decided she had had enough. She was not going to let this happen. He was getting much too intimate.

With one hand, she reached up and pushed his hand which held the knife away from her, nicking her neck in the process. Simultaneously, with her other arm she pulled his other hand away from her hip and then kneed him in the groin as hard as she could. She knew this would only keep him at bay for a moment, and if she was still there when he regained his bearings, she would be completely screwed. She kicked him while he was down and ran toward Dr. Becker's office in time to crash right into him as he was coming back out of it.

If not for her boss quickly gripping her arms and steadying her, their collision would have resulted in her falling backward onto the floor.

Becker looked her over very quickly, likely spending much less time than he needed to make any sort of assessment of her well being. Except that she was alive, he couldn't be sure that she wasn't hurt. But there were more important things on his mind at the moment: keeping Miles from coming after her and keeping him from getting away.

He gently pushed passed Linda and rushed up to Miles, who was obviously angry. Linda had fortunately knocked the knife out of his hand, so Becker didn't have much trouble grabbing Miles by the arms and pushing him up against the wall. With Miles's recent genital trauma, his fighting skills had been temporarily subdued.

Linda watched in awe as Dr. Becker held Miles firmly in place. Becker was seemingly a rather angry man most of the time, but he wasn't known to ever get violent. Linda had no idea her boss was capable of stopping Miles so easily. She had thought Miles was nearly unstoppable...

Still holding Miles up against the wall, Becker turned to Linda, who was standing awkwardly in the hallway, just watching, "I called the police. They should be here any minute. Are you okay?" Becker asked.

Linda nodded. She could feel that her eyes were wide and could feel herself still shaking. Linda knew she probably looked just awful. She couldn't even bring herself to speak anymore. Her breathing was rapid, and she felt something wet on her neck. She remembered that she had felt a bit of a stinging feeling when she had pushed Miles away. Bringing her hand up to her throat, she felt the spot where the knife had been. Sure enough, it was wet with her blood. Fortunately it wasn't very much blood.

Linda was zoning out everything around her. She heard Becker saying something, but wasn't listening to what it was. Even though she was staring right at him, his words sounded like they might if she was underwater and he was up on dry land. She blinked a couple times and shook her head, finally able to focus on what he was saying.

"Sit down, Linda," he ordered, "you look like you might pass out."

She did as he asked, sitting where the patients usually did as she heard sirens approaching. A number of police officers, four or five, were in the office in no time. Two of them took Miles away, and the others stayed to look at the scene and to talk to Becker and Linda.

_xxxxxx(Becker's point of view-ish)_

"Miss," one of the officers began, bending down a little in front of Linda, "did you ever meet this man prior to tonight? Do you have any idea why he targeted you? Was this a robbery? Did he ask for any money?"

Becker pushed him aside and looked down at Linda, who was still sitting in the patient waiting area. She was looking rather small, tired, and pale, and also as though she had just been bombarded with a few too many questions, "Come back to the examining room and I'll bandage your neck," he said to Linda. He knew he could have easily brought the supplies he needed out here to the waiting area, but he wanted to get her away from the probing police. She looked like she really didn't need all this right now.

"Do you mind if I come with you, sir?" the officer asked, "I need to ask her a few questions."

"It can wait a minute, can't it?" Becker complained, "is this how you treat all of your witnesses and victims? By harassing them while they are clearly in need of medical assistance? There's blood running down her neck, for god's sake. The least you can do is just give us a damn minute."

Linda laughed, which was the first sound Becker had heard out of her in quite a while. She looked up at the cop, "Sorry," she smiled slightly, "he gets like this... kind of always... I'll be right back..." She looked down at her shirt which had a few spots of blood on it, "I'm dripping..." she said.

Becker frowned. He would have been worried that she was saying bizarre things, except that she always did. He pulled her up off the chair and led her to the examination room.

Linda sat on the table, just like she had that morning, "Hopefully I won't have to do this too many more times," she joked.

Becker forced a smile, "You won't," he assured her, "You won't be here as a patient ever again. Not if I can help it."

"Well... it's going to be winter again sometime... I'll probably get sick eventually," she said as he cleaned the dry blood off her neck and placed a bandage over it.

"You're not hurt anywhere else are you?" Becker asked, scanning Linda with a medical eye, "he didn't hit you or anything?"

Linda shook her head, "Everything's fine," she said.

"I'm serious, Linda," he persisted, "I don't want you lying about this. If you're hurt anywhere else, you need to tell me, so I can fix it."

Linda looked at him as though he was telling a joke, "I'm serious, Dr. Becker," she insisted, "It was much more scary than painful this time..."

"Okay," Becker finally agreed to believe her, "Ready to go back out and talk to the police?"

Linda nodded, "yeah," she said, "it shouldn't take long, right?"

Becker shook his head, "I don't know... you know how cops are..."

Linda hopped off the table, reaching up to touch the bandage newly plastered on her neck, "I'm lucky it wasn't deep, huh?" she asked very casually, "I could have died."

Becker frowned, "yeah," he said, "very lucky."

_**xxxxxx **_

_**I hope my couple of readers like this chapter. :) It took me a while to decide how to write it... I kind of wanted Becker to be the hero, but also didn't want Linda to be completely helpless, so I wrote in the bit about her kneeing Miles in the groin and escaping on her own. Of course, Becker being there was essential, so Miles wouldn't get back up and come after Linda again... This way, Becker saves the day, but Linda stands up for herself and beats Miles up for a change. :) I also kind of wanted Margaret to be involved more in this chapter, but you know what they say... "three's a crowd;" With Miles, we already had three... Margaret just didn't fit in... I had even written the entire second half of this chapter differently at first, including Margaret, but I hated it, so I re-did it without her... Sorry Margaret.  
**_

_**I decided to make another chapter after this. Then it will be done. The next chapter will probably just be cute Becker/Linda friendship stuff. ^_^ I love writing about people who are sort of father-figures, and I feel like Becker is sort of that to Linda... kind of... In my mind he is anyway. :) I've got daddy issues, so that's a big part of lots of my stories... It would be nice to have a reliable daddy to stand up for you and protect you from things...  
**_

_**Thank you to my reviewers, BOTH of you! :) I was so excited to see that I had not one, but TWO new reviews! Woooooooo Hooooooo! Makes me feel awfully special. :)**_

_**So please review and stick through until the end. We're almost there. Just one more chapter, and it will all be over. I've already almost finished the next chapter, and I think you'll like it. :) I hope so anyway.  
**_


	9. Chapter 9

It had indeed taken much longer than it should have to answer all of the questions the police had. Luckily their questioning began in the early evening instead of late at night, or else they may have been there until the wee hours of the morning. It was after eleven o'clock by the time the police were finally satisfied. Becker wanted to be angry with them, but he knew they needed to be thorough. If they didn't ask enough questions, the event wouldn't be documented correctly, and Miles could walk free.

Linda looked more exhausted now than John had ever seen her look during the entire time he had known her, "I'll drive you home," he offered when the police had finally left.

Linda looked uneasy, but nodded, "okay," she accepted his request.

The drive wasn't long, maybe fifteen minutes. For the first few minutes, there was an uncomfortable silence, but then Linda began to talk. Becker figured she must hate silence, because she was almost constantly talking.

"Thanks for driving me home," Linda said, "and for fixing my arm and stuff, and letting me stay over that one night when I was really drunk. You're being much nicer lately than you used to be."

"Well... don't get used to it," Becker told her, "You're my friend, so I've got to make sure you're alright, but when everything is back to normal, I will be too."

Linda nodded, "I guess it's for the best," she yawned, "I mean, you were a jerk the whole time I've known you... No offense... I'm just saying that I made friends with you even though you're grumpy. If you turned nice, it would just be weird, and you wouldn't be the same person I made friends with. Plus, we both know you're only mean because you don't want people to know you care about them," she smiled.

Becker sighed and rolled his eyes, "Trust me, Linda; there are some people I don't care about, and I'm glad to let them know that."

"But I'm not one of them," she smirked.

Becker couldn't help but smile a little, "no, you're not," he agreed.

She was quiet for a moment. Becker glanced over at her, as it was unusual for Linda to be awake and also silent. She looked tired, and she kept closing her eyes and then opening them as though she was trying to stay awake, but finding it difficult to do so. They were about ten more minutes from Linda's apartment.

"If you need to take tomorrow off from work, I'm sure Margaret will understand," Becker interrupted the silence.

Linda shook her head, "no," she persisted, "I'll be fine. What am I gonna do anyway? Just sit around my house all alone? I could call up one of my friends, but they will all be at work... I don't want to just do nothing tomorrow. I go to work everyday because I want to, not because I have to... I mean, I don't like getting up early-"

"You don't get up early," Becker smirked.

Linda nodded, "yeah... but I do like going to work, and I like working for you, as long as you've had your daily cigarette quota."

"Well..." Becker wasn't good with all the sappy-caring-friendship talk, "Uh, I like to have you working for me... even though you don't work. Your... uh... presence makes people happy."

Linda nodded and leaned her head back against the seat, "I'm glad I make people happy," she said, sounding like she was falling asleep.

Becker kept driving. Silence fell over the car again. He didn't mind though. His only concern was that he knew under normal circumstances, Linda was constantly talking. When she was quiet, it was weird. He glanced over at her again, and he understood why she wasn't talking: she had fallen asleep.

They drove for a few more minutes before they had reached Linda's apartment. Becker parked his car in front of her building and looked over at her. She looked relatively peaceful. He felt guilty waking her up, but he knew he had to do it, "Linda," he said softly as he gently shook her shoulder, "we're here."

Linda opened her eyes and looked around. She looked up at her apartment and then looked at Dr. Becker. She reached for the door handle of the car to get out, but hesitated, "Will you come up with me?" she asked, "I know it sounds stupid, and you'll think I'm being dumb and irrational, but Miles was in there when I left... I know he's not in there now, but I still don't want to go up there all by myself," she rambled.

"Sure," Becker agreed easily, "I don't think you're being irrational at all. You've been through a lot today. I'd be kind of nervous about being alone too."

He followed her up to her apartment, staying close behind her, but not saying anything. She was abnormally quiet, but she was probably very tired. It was odd to be with her and at the same time hear only silence.

She opened the door and went inside, but didn't walk very far into the apartment. She turned around and looked at Becker as though he should lead the way, or as though she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do.

"Maybe you should look around and make sure he didn't take anything," Becker suggested. If he had been there all day, he might have stolen something. Her apartment was pretty nice.

Linda nodded and made her way around the apartment, ending up in her bedroom. She found her purse and looked through its contents, then she turned around to Becker, "everything's still here... as far as I can tell... I guess he didn't want any of this stuff."

"Maybe," Becker said, "or maybe he had planned on coming back so he felt no need to take anything just yet."

Linda nodded, "I guess so."

Becker sighed. Linda still looked shaken. He really didn't want to leave her here. He knew she'd be physically fine, but he didn't want her sitting up all night all by herself. Miles was locked away, and Linda knew that, but she still appeared to be quite nervous, and was currently looking at her bed as though she didn't know what to do with it.

"I think I'll throw this out," she said, "Miles slept in it... I don't want it anymore... I'll ask my parents to get me a new one."

"Okay..." Becker said, not really knowing what to say to that. He couldn't really know how she felt. He thought it would probably work fine to just wash the sheets, or get new ones at most, but if Linda wanted the whole bed gone, he supposed she could afford it, so it wasn't a big deal, and it made no difference to him.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch," Linda said, walking passed Becker, "close that door when you're done in there," she instructed.

"Do you need any pillows or blankets or anything?" Becker asked.

Linda shook her head, "No... Well... There are some in my closet, but I can get them. Actually I'm going to take a shower really quick. I'll get the blankets when I get out... you can leave if you want to."

"Do you want me to?" Becker asked. He didn't think she did, but he didn't want to stay if she didn't even want him to.

"Maybe you can stay until I'm out of the shower," Linda suggested.

"Okay," Becker agreed.

"Thank you," she said, "I'll only be a little while... I'll try to go fast."

Becker nodded and she left, leaving him to look around her apartment.

He had been here before, but it still amazed him that such a strange, quirky, spacey girl would live in such an elegant place. Anyone meeting Linda for the first time would probably assume she lived in some run down apartment. She dressed nicely (by her standards) in clothing that was not cheap, but not too expensive, but she worked at a job where the pay was very low. Anyone would be shocked to discover that she could afford to live here. Becker knew he was when he first visited her.

He decided he would retrieve the extra blankets and pillows for Linda so she wouldn't have to when she got out of the shower. She had quite a large stash of them. Many of the blankets looked like something you might see at a twelve year old girl's slumber party. Linda probably did use these for slumber parties. Why else would she have so many?

Becker smiled and shook his head. Linda was so strange. She was an adult, yet she was always so happy and child-like on so many levels. John remembered when he was her age, he was much more of a grumpy adult. He was always complaining about the government, stupid people, organized religion, and whatever else ticked him off. He wasn't miserable, but he wasn't generally happy either. He felt it was important to be responsible and independent, and was much more concerned with financial success than happiness and fun. While Linda's lack of desire to grow up frustrated him sometimes, he actually admired that she was able to be so cheerful all the time, and he knew he could never pull it off himself.

Thinking about this made him wonder how Miles could do all of the things he did. Linda sometimes said some brutally honest things, but she had never said or done anything that would warrant being hit, having her arm twisted, or being threatened with a knife. She was so innocent and child-like; No matter how frustrating she might be sometimes, she didn't deserve to actually be physically hurt. People like Miles made him sick. He shook the thought out of his head and made his way into the living room.

Becker put a pillow and blanket on one of Linda's sofas. He then sat down on the other sofa and started watching television. He turned the volume fairly low, since it was almost midnight by now, and he didn't want to wake anyone else in the building.

Before long, Linda emerged, wearing pajamas consisting of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that was too big for her. The t-shirt allowed the bruises on her arms to be visible. She must have seen him looking at her arms, because she made a feeble effort to pull the short sleeves down farther. She had taken the bandage off her neck, but it wasn't bleeding anymore, since the cut hadn't been very deep at all. It was about an inch long, and would heal in no time.

She sat down on the couch where Becker had put the blanket and pillow and looked over at him as he sat on the other couch, "what are you going to do now?" she asked.

Becker shrugged, "go home I guess," he said, looking at her. He could tell she wanted to say something but was hesitating to say it, "unless you want me to stay..."

"Would you really?" she asked. He could tell she was suppressing excitement, as though she really wanted him to stay over, but wasn't wanting to get her hopes up just yet in case he changed his mind.

"I could stay a little while," Becker offered, "maybe until you fall asleep? Whatever makes you feel better. I don't want to leave if you're still scared."

Linda looked down as though she was ashamed, "I know it's stupid that I feel so nervous," she said, "because I know he's not here, and there's no way he could get here... But I really don't want to be here all alone."

"So..." Becker began, not sure what she wanted. Did she really want him to spend the whole night here? "How long do you want me to stay?" he asked.

Linda hesitated, "I've got two couches..." she said, seemingly implying that Becker could spend the night on the extra one.

"You want me to stay over then?" Becker asked, "All night? I'd be happy to if it'll make you feel better. But we won't make a habit of it. And don't tell Margaret I was nice to you. I'll never hear the end of it."

Linda smiled, "It'll be our little secret."

They sat for a moment, not speaking. Then Linda broke the silence again.

"Um... Do you want a drink or something?" she asked.

"No thanks," Dr. Becker responded, "I think I'm going to try to get some sleep before work. I'm going to get some more blankets. Do you mind if I bring your alarm clock in here so we can hear it when it goes off?"

"Hey," Linda beamed, "that's a good idea. I would have never thought of that. I was wondering if I'd hear it all the way in there, but if you just bring it in here, it'll probably wake us up."

Becker nodded, "yeah... probably." He went and retrieved another pillow and blanket as well as Linda's alarm clock. When he returned, he threw the pillow and blanket onto the couch and plugged the alarm clock into the closest electrical outlet he could find. He set the alarm and placed it on the end-table at the arm of the sofa where he would sleep. He looked over at Linda, who was now laying down, curled up so that she was only on one of the cushions of the couch, and the arm rest. She was watching him.

"You want me to leave the TV on?" Becker asked.

"It doesn't matter to me," she said, "I can sleep under almost any circumstances. If you want the background noise, you can leave it on. I really don't care either way."

Becker nodded and turned the television off. He proceeded to get up to turn off the lights and double check that the door was locked. All the while, Linda's eyes followed his every move. He came back and laid down. It was dark, but the street lights and moon made it light enough that they could still see a little. As she laid on the couch parallel to his, Linda was smiling and still looking at him.

Becker sighed, "Could you stop staring at me? You're making me nervous."

Linda turned so that she was laying on her back looking up at the ceiling, "Sorry," she said, "you just reminded me of when I was little and I'd tell my dad to check my room for monsters. He'd look all around, kind of like how you walked around to turn off lights and check the door. Except he'd never sleep in my room, no matter how scared I told him I was. He said I was being irrational, because monsters don't exist."

"Well," Becker began, "to be fair, he was right; monsters don't exist. Unless you mean politicians."

Linda laughed, "It's still a good memory, even though I was scared when he left. Because while he checked my room, I didn't feel scared anymore. It was nice."

"That's good," Becker said, ready to end their chit-chat and finally get some sleep, "good memories are... uh... good..."

"Yeah," Linda agreed, "maybe someday this will be a good memory for me."

"What will?" Becker asked, "staying up all night because you won't stop talking?"

Linda laughed again, "you know what I mean, Dr. Becker. It'll be fun to remember how you stayed over even though I'm scared for an irrational reason, just like when I was a kid."

"Yeah, maybe," he said, hoping Linda would find a stopping point soon.

"And no matter how grumpy you are tomorrow, or the next day, and no matter how much you complain and grumble and yell at me," she continued, "I'll always remember that you took the time to make sure I wasn't scared. I'll always have this memory, of you being a really good friend."

Becker sighed loudly, "Are you finished?" he complained.

"You can complain all you want, because the memory is already there," Linda beamed.

Becker shook his head, smiling to himself, "goodnight Linda," he said.

"Good night, Dr. Becker," she said.

"I'm waking you up at seven o'clock," he added.

Linda was quiet for a moment. Then she turned over and looked at him, "really?" she didn't look enthused.

Becker nodded, "really," he confirmed.

"Well... I guess Margaret can be impressed that I'm there on time again," Linda said, "and this time I can tell her that I'm the one who made sure you were on time," she added.

"You better not. You can't tell her I stayed over," Becker insisted, "Remember? Don't tell Margaret I was nice... She'll mis-interpret it and think I am actually nice. If word gets around that I care about people, who knows what will happen... I don't want people asking me for favours all the time."

"Okay. I won't say anything," Linda agreed, "But does this mean I can ask you for favours?"

"Good night, Linda," he said again, turning over to face away from her and to signify that he was done talking for tonight.

"Good night," Linda also repeated, "and thank you for staying."

Becker didn't say anything, but merely nodded. He didn't know if Linda saw this nod or not. Either way, it wouldn't matter. She had an image of him in her head that wouldn't change no matter how negative or rude he was. He appreciated it, and was glad he could be there for her. Even though she annoyed him sometimes, or rather most of the time, he really did care about her, and about all of his friends but he wasn't going to talk about it all night.

He felt a sick feeling in his stomach when he thought about what Miles had done, and how he had held a knife so close to Linda's neck. He felt sick when he thought that Miles could have killed her. He felt a strong sense of hatred towards the man who had hurt his friend, but he also felt a stronger sense of relief knowing that Linda was now safe from him.

He was glad that everything was resolved and hoped things would be back to normal soon. Linda was already seemingly feeling better about the situation. He always thought she was very resilient and her emotions were quick to would probably forget all about this and be back to her old self in a matter of days. Linda was still annoying, Becker was still grumpy, Margaret of course would never change, and Becker knew things in the office would be back to normal in no time.

_**Xxxxxx**_

_**I'm not very good at endings... I say this every time I finish a story, and maybe I just hate how everything comes to an end and that means there is no more story... but I think I've hated every ending I've ever written. I don't usually like other people's endings either... Maybe I just hate endings in general...**_

_**At any rate, this is the end. I hope you liked it, and I hope it wasn't too cheesy. I tried to keep everyone in character... **_

_**Thank you to everyone who read, and especially to those of you who reviewed.**_

_**If you can think of another Becker topic you want written on (especially about the characters I wrote about in this one, since they are my favouirtes) feel free to let me know and I might be interested in writing it if you don't want to write it yourself. Becker is a great show, and I think there should be more Becker stories on here. **_


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